


Shawn Walks Into A Bank

by cosette141



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Shawn Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosette141/pseuds/cosette141
Summary: Gus was always hounding Shawn for not taking Psych checks to the bank and being "responsible." So it's just Shawn's luck that the one time he goes... so does a crazy gunman.





	1. Chapter 1

1983

Shawn made it three steps.

Three steps outside his bedroom before Henry was suddenly standing in front of him, his imposing shadow raining over Shawn like the darkness of night. Shawn's hand was still on his doorknob, and he forced a nervous smile on his face as he slowly looked up at Henry's face.

"Hey… Dad," said Shawn, giving his father a toothy smile.

"What are you doing, Shawn?" demanded Henry, hands on his hips. He was still wearing his police uniform, and not that Shawn would ever admit it, it surely made his father seem much more imposing. Shawn swallowed hard.

"Uh," he hesitated, searching for a lie. "I was just… coming downstairs to see if you… needed anything."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "You're grounded, Shawn. I told you that you were staying in your room until you go to school on Monday."

"But Dad!" whined Shawn, pouting stubbornly. "You can't do that!"

"I'm your father," growled Henry. "I can do whatever I want. Now get back into your room and think about what you did."

"I already did think about it, Dad!" said Shawn exasperatedly. "And you were right; it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. If I was smarter, then the fire would have been a lot bigger."

"Shawn!" exclaimed Henry, throwing his hands up, making Shawn shrink the littlest bit back into his room. "That is not the point! The point is: you've been grounded and you cannot leave that room!"

"But you can't do that!" said Shawn firmly, standing his ground. "It's illegal-that's like a hodge-podge situation then!"

"It's called a hostage situation, Shawn," muttered Henry, crossing his arms again.

"I've heard it both ways," said Shawn with a shrug. "But you can't keep someone against their will."

"I'm your father," said Henry again, as if that was a good enough reason.

"Still a hodge-podge situation," muttered Shawn stubbornly.

"And you know what?" asked Henry. "Even as a hostage, you have to listen to the crazy guy in charge."

Shawn raised his eyebrow. "And if I don't?"

Henry narrowed his eyes again. "You don't want to find out."

-.-

Present Day

Shawn took a breath, then walked through the doors.

He looked around slowly, walking through the doorway, breathing in the crisp, air-conditioned air. It didn't feel very special.

He knew it. Being responsible was boring.

He was walking into the city bank down the street from Psych to deposit the latest Psych check. Gus had given it to him earlier in the week and Shawn had planned on cashing it in quarters and hitting an arcade. So that's what he intended to do as he walked through the chilled room toward the short line by the tellers.

This bank was bigger and more prestigious than the ones that Gus usually went to, making Shawn feel more superior already. The ceilings stood high above him and he heard his own sneakered footsteps echo in the large room. He'd worked in a bank before, but it wasn't anywhere near as fancy as this one was. Or anywhere near as legit or "government sanctioned" as this one was…

Shawn was next in line when he felt it. It was almost like an intuition. For a moment, he even entertained it as a spark of psychicness. But whatever the shift in the atmosphere had been, Shawn suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up and he was suddenly whipping around, just as a man burst through the doors to the bank.

A man with a gun.

Heart freezing in his chest, Shawn stumbled back a step. He felt the entire bank go silent for half a second as they all stared at the man, and he stared back. But that moment shattered the moment a woman screamed.

And then all hell broke loose.

With a wild growl, the man raised his gun and started firing bullets. Shawn was running immediately, an arm over his head through the chaos of people. He tried for the door, but the man was blocking the only known exit. People hit him roughly on every side in their attempt to avoid the spray of bullets, but the man was firing randomly. The forty or so people left in the bank had filled the air with the echo of pounding footsteps. Shawn was bruised by the people within seconds. Someone jabbed him particularly painfully in the side and Shawn stumbled and fell to his knee, grabbing at the pain in his side.

"Everyone shut the hell up!" roared the man. Shawn grimaced as another person shoved past him, and he slid himself across the floor, underneath a vacant desk, grimacing at the throbbing bruises as he slammed into the underside.

"Shut up!" Shawn heard the man yell, and he heard the silence of people as they stopped running. One set of footsteps-Shawn assumed they were the man's-walked toward the bank. Shawn peered around the corner. Everyone in the bank was on the ground now, staring weary-eyed at the man. His hair was disheveled and his clothes wrinkled and dirty. His gun was still held tight in his hand. He glared at the room. Giving the bank a quick look of his own, Shawn was relieved to see that no one had been killed. He only caught sight of two injured people: a man in his forties was clutching his arm, blood dripping quickly and steadily to the floor. His face was contorted in pain, a woman holding him tightly, crying silently. The other was a girl, her hand around her thigh, tears streaming down her face. She didn't look too much older than nineteen. The other hostages were splitting their wary gazes from the shooter to the injured. Shawn grimaced again, trying to ignore the throbbing in his side and his pounding heart in his chest.

The man jabbed a gun toward a female employee, and almost everyone flinched. "Lock down the bank. Call anyone, I'll shoot you." He turned toward the rest of the bank, and added, "If anyone tries to be a hero, then I will shoot to kill."

Shawn turned back around, his back pressing firmly against the inside of the underside of the desk, completely hidden from view. He counted thirty-two people in the room. Nineteen female, twelve male, including himself. And a young girl and boy who looked like siblings, whose mother was trying to shush them, tears falling down her own face. Three of the hostages were wearing hats, but Shawn shook himself; that wasn't important. He cringed again, wondering just how many hits and shoves he took in the chaos before.

"Alright," said the man roughly, panting now. Shawn's heart beat furiously in his head, and he held his breath, trying to focus. What had his father told him about hostage situations?

"Even as a hostage, you have to listen to the crazy guy in charge." echoed Henry's voice in Shawn's head.

"This is how this is going to go down," the man continued and Shawn tensed. "Everyone, move over there." He must have pointed to somewhere in the bank, because Shawn heard shuffling of people. If the man decided to search the room and he found Shawn hiding, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him. But this was Shawn's only chance. If he could stay hidden, he could have an advantage.

Heart beating even faster, Shawn swallowed hard, feeling the window of time for his decision to stay or go closing. He shut his eyes and stayed put, hoping against hope that the man was too much of an amateur to not do a search.

"I need some leverage," the man continued, his voice quick and rushed. "Okay? I need the police to give me what I want. You are my bargaining chips. And unless I get everything I need, I will kill every last person inside this building. Got it?"

Silence.

Shawn shifted against the desk, the cramped space hurting his throbbing body even more. What was the most confusing was that he was suddenly light headed. His side stung again. He pressed a hand to it firmly and nearly yelped aloud. He clamped his mouth shut and tore his hand away, staring at it with wide eyes.

It was red with blood.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay_ , thought Shawn, staring at his blood-soaked fingers and the red spilling onto his shirt.  _So… three injured people.  
_

How hadn't he noticed he'd been  _shot_? It seemed as if just the realization had brought on a whole new level of pain. Shawn clenched his teeth, pressing his back into the desk, breathing shortly. The pain radiated from somewhere in his waist. Hesitantly, Shawn hovered his shaking, blood-stained hand over the wound, and after firmly clamping his mouth shut, he pressed down.

The pain was agonizing. Worse than when he was shot by Garth Longmore. Far worse. At least the bastard didn't shoot him and then do  _this_. Shawn kept his hand against the wound, feeling tears sting his eyes. The pain whited out his vision, his hearing, his thinking, seemingly everything. But he had to do something to stop the bleeding.

After what seemed like ten years, the pain died down the smallest bit. Shawn blinked his eyes back open, tuning into the voice in the room just enough to hear the man demand cell phones from everyone. Clatters of metal hitting tile echoed throughout the room. Thanking the man for reminding him he had a  _cell_   _phone_ , Shawn pulled his out of his pants pocket. His fingers shook and blood slimed over the small device.  _Gross_ , thought Shawn, making a face at it. At least he was hidden; he could send a text message to Lassiter this way. Shawn didn't know if any of the employees managed to sent out a distress call, but the sound of gunshots could easily have carried outside. There was a chance the cops already knew about this.

Either way, Shawn lifted the phone, and with one hand still holding his wounded side, he began to write a text to Lassiter.

Until…

His phone began to  _ring_.

Startled, Shawn swore under his breath and hit answer miraculously fast, even before  _Check Yes Juliet_  could start blasting through the speakers. He slammed the phone to the side of his head, his heart beating rapidly.

"Shawn, you busy?" came Juliet's voice. Sirens blared in the background.

"...Kinda," Shawn whispered.

"Well, clear your schedule," said Juliet. "Chief wants you to meet us down at Royalty Bank. We're outside; there's a gunman inside with hostages. He was actually the suspect we were pursuing. The minute we cornered him about the murder he committed, he ran for it and took hostages. And the Chief was so impressed by how you took charge of that hostage crisis when Gus was in danger that she wants you around, just in case."

Shawn risked a glance around the desk. The man was glaring at the hostages, his gun waving wildly. He wasn't near Shawn. Shawn let out a breath. "This guy," he whispered. "'Bout 5'9"? Dark hair?"

Juliet hesitated. "Yeah. Did you just have a vision?"

"Kind of looking right at him," Shawn whispered.

Juliet's tone changed sharply. "Shawn, what are you talking about? Why are you whispering?"

"I'm in the bank," Shawn said, grimacing as the pain tightened. "There's forty hostages. Three people injured, nothing fatal. The guy's an accurate shot. But he's off his rocker. A total wild card."

"Oh, my- _Lassiter_!" Shawn listened as she relayed what he said to someone else-probably Lassiter. She came back a moment later. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Hiding under a desk," said Shawn breathlessly. He quickly noticed that the blood was creating a small pool on the ground. Not good.

"Look, Shawn, just hang in there, we have S.W.A.T. out here, we're gonna get you out of there."

"What does he want?" asked Shawn.

"His name is Charles Heston." she said with a sigh. "He just doesn't want to go to jail. He's not the first fugitive who took hostages for the same simple reasons."

"Hey!"

Shawn jolted from the sudden shout, his gunshot wound erupting in pain from the jerked movement. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out. He breathed out a harsh breath. Juliet was saying something but he couldn't focus on the words. "Shh," he said breathlessly to her, then he slowly and carefully peered around the edge of the desk.

The gunman-Charles Heston-was angrily stalking over to two of the hostages. One of the hostages was the injured teenage girl, who'd been shot in the leg. Her skirt was already doused with blood and she was crying hysterically. A man was beside her, his jacket in his hands, and he looked very much like he was about to wrap her leg with it. He raised his hands as Heston stalked over to him, and the gun stopped a few inches from his face.

"What did I say about not movin'?" demanded Heston.

Despite the gun, the man's face didn't waver. Keeping his hands in the air, he said calmly, "Please. I'm a doctor. I just want to help her. You don't want any of us dying, do you? You need us alive, right?"

The gun pressed to his forehead and the man closed his eyes. Shawn barely breathed.

"Not all of ya," Heston said, cocking the gun.

The fear in the room was palpable. Seconds hung like hours. No one moved.

"But," Heston said finally. "It's your lucky day." He removed the gun from the doctor's head, and the man visibly relaxed. That is, until the butt of the gun came slamming down on the man's temple, knocking him out completely. He hit the floor and gasps echoed around the room. He raised the gun to the rest of the hostages. "Anyone else try ta help someone, I'm not gonna be so generous."

It took Shawn a long moment to realize Juliet was trying to talk to him. He pulled himself quickly back around, his back pressing into the underside of the desk. His heart was thudding against his chest fast and hard. "Did you say something?" Shawn whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Shawn!" said Juliet exasperatedly. "I… what happened?!"

Shawn swallowed hard. "It's not good, Jules. He's dangerous. Really dangerous. He almost just murdered a guy for trying to help one of the injured."

"Is everyone still alive?"

"Yes," said Shawn. His abdomen suddenly throbbed sharply and his hand flew to it, until he remember that  _touching the wound hurts_  and his vision whited out for a few precious seconds. He breathed hard.

" _Shawn_!"

Getting his breathing back under control, and thankful that the solid oak of the desk muffled his whispers and breaths, he opened his eyes. "I'm here."

Sudden crying erupted, and Shawn shifted carefully within the underside of the desk, looking out on the hostages again. One of the two kids started crying. Shawn's eyes darted to Heston, whose eye twitched dangerously. His hand tightened on the gun as he glared at the child.

Shawn pulled himself back around the desk. "Jules, we need to do something, now." He paused, thinking. He was hidden, so he had an advantage. But how could he use it? It's not as if he could jump out from under the desk and surprise the guy. The moment he stood, all eyes would go to him and he'd be dead. He needed a…

His head snapped up.

"Jules," he said breathlessly. "I need a distraction."

"You…" He could practically feel her fear through the phone. "You need a  _what_?! Why? Shawn-" Her voice changed instantly. It became hard. "No. Whatever you're thinking, do not-"

"I'm their only chance, Jules! The next person who looks at him the wrong way is gonna get killed! He doesn't know I'm here. I have that on my side. I just need a distraction to get him to look away for two seconds. Just two."

"But, Shawn-"

" _Juliet_!" Shawn hissed, finding it incredibly difficult to keep his voice at the lowest possible decibel and invoke every ounce of fear and urgency as he felt. "I'll be  _fine_. Just have someone… throw something at the front doors. A shoe, a stick,  _something_. Better yet, something that could shatter the glass. I just need him to  _look away_  for two seconds."

A long pause. "What are you going to do in those two seconds, Shawn?"

Shawn swallowed hard. "I'll be fine."

It took her several long seconds to reply. Long, terrible seconds of Shawn thinking desperately,  _if she says no then there's nothing I can do_. "Shawn…"

A footstep sounded, and Shawn painfully looked back into the room. Heston was approaching the woman and the crying child. His face was twisted in anger. Shawn yanked himself back, ignoring the pain. "NOW, Jules! I need it  _now_!"

A half-second of hesitation, then, "Okay. Count to ten."

_One, two, three…  
_

Another footstep. Another. Heston was five feet away from the child. His gun was still held out in front of him.

... _four, five, six…_

The girl's mother was pulling her close, begging her to stop crying, but her own tears were falling.

... _seven, eight, nine_ …

The gun raised. The mother closed her eyes.

... _ten_.

The shatter of glass was deafening, cutting the fear-induced silence. Even before it did, Shawn was already moving. He yanked himself up from the ground using the edge of the desk. His wound tore agonizingly and it was all he could do to ignore it and keep going. He took heavy, fast steps and launched himself in the air straight at Heston, who was waving his gun at in the direction of the crash, distracted.

"Everyone,  _run_!" screamed Shawn, as he struck Heston hard and he and the gunman hit the ground. The pain of the landing was excruciating. The moment he landed, agony shot up from underneath him, nearly paralyzingly him.

To his relief, the only sound he heard around him were of feet slamming on the ground, all running outside, to safety.

Pure adrenaline forced Shawn to his hands and knees. A brief look around told him that the bank was nearly empty, and he was grateful the hostages listened to him. Without bothering to look back, he picked himself up and ran, only to trip over something soft and fall straight back to the ground. He cried out this time as he collided with the floor, this pain nearly triple what he felt the first fall.

 _Get up, get up, get UP_ , echoed urgently in his head and he jerked himself up, his curiosity swiveling his head around to see what he tripped over-

 _The doctor_. Shawn's eyes widened. The man who had tried to help the injured girl had been knocked out cold. Unable to escape. "Oh, no, oh, god," whispered Shawn breathlessly. Ignoring every stabbing pain that went through him, Shawn linked his hands under the unconscious man's arms and started to lift him up.

Until something hard collided painfully with the back of his head, and everything went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Juliet held back a grin of relief as she watched the hostages running from the bank to freedom. Some screams pierced the air as they escaped, and S.W.A.T. rushed forward to help them out. Still gripping the phone tightly-though the call itself went dead-Juliet watched desperately, frozen, for Shawn to run through the doors.

_It actually worked_ , she thought numbly.  _His plan actually saved the hostages_.

"Holy crap," said Lassiter blankly from her side, eyebrows raised in surprise. "That idiot did it."

Juliet felt a smile burst on her face and she pocketed her phone, eyes scanning the crowd for the psychic.

The doors swung shut as the crowd ran into the parking lot, and then the doors remained shut. They must all be out. Juliet's eyebrows kneaded, eyes running over every face in the crowd, over the officers, EMTs and S.W.A.T. No sight of Shawn. Also… no Heston.

Juliet's heart stuttered in her chest. She looked sharply at Lassiter, who shared the same expression. "Let's move in, people!"

* * *

Aaron Aldaman's eyes shot open.

A white-tiled ceiling stared back at him and he winced from the room's brightness. His head pounded. And his heart was slamming in his chest, as if his body knew of the danger surrounding him even before his mind.

He pushed himself off the ground, memories dawning instantly once the scene of the nearly-empty bank faced him. He'd been standing in line at the bank… the mad gunman rushed in and took hostages… he'd tried to help an injured girl with a GSW and then…

The rest was blank.

The back of his head hurt but after running himself through a quick test he ruled out any injury more serious than a nasty bruise. So, luckily no concussion. The positive self-diagnosis did little to quell his fear, though. Something about this situation was still very, very wrong...

A jagged hole had been punched in the glass of one of the windows. He stared at it. When did that happen? Where were the hostages? Were they safe? Was  _he_  safe?

Just as he moved to stand, his leg snagged on something and he turned, his breath freezing in his chest. A young man was lying on his stomach, clearly unconscious. But that wasn't what worried him.

It was the growing pool of crimson inching out from underneath him.

Aaron's hands shot out to feel for a pulse on the man's neck, but suddenly he was grabbed from behind, a strong hand gripping the material of his jacket collar and some of his hair. He grimaced as he was yanked to his feet, struggling against the grip until something hard and startlingly cold pressed against his temple. An arm closed around his neck, holding him to whoever was grabbing him.

"Stop fightin'!" growled a voice in his ear, and Aaron realized it was the gunman who'd taken the hostages. A chill swept down his spine, fear stopping his movements instantly.

With a wild growl, the man lashed out a foot, kicking the prone man on the ground. " _Dammit_!" he roared, eyes darting back and forth between the unconscious man, Aaron, and the cops outside. He glared back down at the young man. "You let them escape, you stupid little... I'm gonna kill ya for that-!"

The gunman was cut short as pounding footsteps from outside announced the arrival of S.W.A.T. Aaron allowed the man to drag him to where the front doors suddenly burst open and the S.W.A.T. men appeared.

"Move any closer an' he dies!" The gunman bellowed, and the three men froze. Aaron could see each of their eyes going from the gunman, to him, to the man lying on the ground, soaked in a small but growing pool of his own blood. He could see the horror written into their eyes at the sight. And even Aaron knew, as a surgeon, having had people die on his own table, that no matter how many times you see something as horrendous as this, it never gets easier to bear.

They then looked at each other, gave each other a nod, trading some sort of silent language they all understood, and as one they lowered their weapons and retreated, letting the doors swing shut.

Even as they continued to back up into the parking lot, shouting at their partners to stand down, Aaron was held there with the gun to his head. The gun he could only imagine shooting a bullet through his skull, and his breathing hitched up a few notches and he realized he was trembling. "Please," he whispered. "You-you don't need to hurt me," he said carefully. "I won't try anything."

The man and his gun remained where they were and Aaron's chest burned. He couldn't breathe.

"Good," the man said after a moment, seeming satisfied with the S.W.A.T.'s retreat. He removed the gun from Aaron's head and Aaron let out a shaky breath, but the arm didn't move from his neck. He didn't even try to escape the hold.

The gunman suddenly leaned down and grabbed the arm of the man lying prone on the floor. He dragged both the man and Aaron backward with him, the young man's blood leaving a trail of red across the floor that could have been pulled straight from a horror movie. Blood didn't bother Aaron, but he still didn't like to see it. And he knew that losing that much blood was incredibly dangerous.

That is, if the man was even still alive.

They stopped behind a few desks, and Aaron understood; snipers couldn't reach them from here.

The gunman released his hold around Aaron and he was pushed to his knees. The young man was also dropped forcefully to the ground, and Aaron immediately crawled to the young man, pressing his fingers to his neck. He waited, his own heart slamming in his chest.

A pulse beat back at him.

Aaron let out a breath. It was weak, but it was there. He was alive.

The gunman's words from earlier floated back through Aaron's mind. This young man must have been the one who'd done something to free the hostages. And now he was paying for it.

"What're you doin'?" demanded the man, the gun turning back in his direction.

Aaron raised his hands, but glared at him. "This man is still alive, but he's seriously injured! I'm a doctor, you have to let me look at him. I just want to wrap his wounds-"

"No, you won't!" growled the man.

Aaron didn't shrink from the man's heavy glare. "If I don't stop that bleeding, he's going to die. A dead hostage won't do you much good, will it?" He nodded at the gun. "And killing me would be just as good as killing both me and this man. Are you willing to give up all your chips?"

The man glared at him, holding the gaze for a heavy moment. Then, the man scowled and said, "Fine. Look at him. Do whatever. But no funny business. I can shoot ya without killin' ya."

Aaron swallowed hard. He nodded, then turned back to the man on the ground as the gunman began to pace a few feet away, muttering to himself.

Slowly and carefully, Aaron turned the man onto his back, and his breath caught. The man's entire torso was crimson. His shirt was soaked through. Terrified it was a chest wound, Aaron carefully lifted the wet shirt, and let out a breath when he saw the bullet wound in the man's abdomen. He had a much better chance than someone with a chest bullet wound.

A quick check told him it was through-and-through, so at least he didn't have to fish for a bullet. He didn't have his medical bag with him; it was his day off. He was supposed to be spending a day for  _himself_ , his boss had told him. A day to take care of himself and not all the patients he devoted his life to. He sighed half-heartedly. No chance of that now.

He took off his jacket and began to rip the sleeves. Hoping his girlfriend won't kill him for ruining the jacket she got him, he started to tend the wound.

* * *

"Stand down! Everyone- _stand down_!"

Juliet froze. She, Lassiter and the Chief were right behind the team that had entered the building, but all three S.W.A.T. men were retreating, weapons down.

"What's going on?" demanded the Chief.

"This thing ain't over yet," one of the men said gravely. "He still has two hostages in there."

Juliet's heart dropped low in his chest. "He-what? Oh, my god, Shawn-" Her breath constricted in her chest. Shawn had to have done something drastic to distract Heston. And if he was still in there… "Are they okay?"

The first man set his lips, and the other two hesitated. Juliet felt her eyes burn. The man to the left of the first one spoke, saying carefully, "One is uninjured. The other…" He trailed off, looking to the first man.

"The other was unconscious," he said slowly. "There was… blood. We didn't get a good look. But he wasn't moving. There's a fair chance he's simply unconscious, but there's also a chance he's..." He didn't bother to finish.

Juliet's breath constricted. A hand gripped her shoulder, and Lassiter said, "What did the injured one look like?"

The man shrugged. "Brown hair, late twenties, plaid button down shirt, sneakers."

Juliet couldn't breathe.

_Shawn._

* * *

Agony tore Shawn's eyes open.

A blinding fire erupted in his side and someone screamed. A room blurred into view and his chest heaved as he panted, and only then did he realize the scream had come from  _him_.

"Hey, hey," said a calm voice from above him. "It's okay, you're gonna be fine."

Shawn's breath was too broken to respond. He blinked quickly, the blurred room slowly sharpening. He was still in the bank.  _Did everyone get out_? His face screwed up in pain and confusion. The last thing he remembered, he tackled the gunman… then…

_The doctor_. He tripped on the doctor and tried to drag him out. Then…  _nothing_.

"W-What… happened?" Shawn forced out. His shaking hands slowly found the burning area on his side. They met another set of hands, hands that were pressing  _incredibly hard_  into his gunshot wound. Another spasm of blinding pain shot through him, fraying his every nerve and he cried out.

"I'm sorry," said the voice again, and it sounded like the person meant it. "You and I were hostages in a, well, hostage crisis. And… we still are," the voice explained. "You've been shot. I'm trying to make sure you don't bleed out. I know this has got to hurt, I'm sorry."

Shawn breathed hard, slowly tilting his head to look at the person next to him. A young, maybe mid-thirties man was kneeling next to him, pressing a balled-up jacket that was slowly turning crimson into Shawn's side. The man was lean, and chestnut hair fell slightly over his forehead. The man looked like a genuinely kind person. He looked at Shawn, his expression mixing fear and concern. Shawn recognized him instantly; it was the doctor who had tried to help the teenage girl who had been shot. Also the doctor Shawn had tripped over and tried to save.

Well, that went well.

But it seemed that he and this man were alone, wherever they currently were.

"'S okay, Doc," said Shawn hollowly.

The man's eyebrows shifted. "How did you know I was a doctor?"

Shawn slowly lifted two fingers to his head, but they didn't quite make it before he dropped his hand. "P-Psychic," he whispered.

The doctor gave half a smile, seeming like he didn't quite buy it. But Shawn hardly cared. Pain was flooding through him, and even breathing hurt. "My name's Aaron, though. What's yours?"

"Shawn," said Shawn quietly, shutting his eyes as his head pounded.

"Hey." A hand gently slapped his cheek and Shawn's eyes fluttered back open. "No sleeping on me, okay?"

Shawn smirked. "No problem, Doc."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at what was apparently his new nickname, and said, "I heard that it was you who saved the hostages. Thank you."

Shawn lifted an eyebrow. "Apparently not all of them."

Aaron's face creased in sympathy. " _Almost_  all of them."

Shawn took an unsteady breath, looking down at where red was painted over his entire torso, and pooling onto the floor. "Am I gonna live?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but Shawn's heart stuttered when Aaron's face turned slightly grim. "If we get out of here soon, yes. But this is too much blood. And I can't keep pressure on both this wound and the exit. And a jacket is hardly a bandage." Aaron nodded to where Shawn's blood was stained all over Aaron's hands and trickling through his fingers. Shawn swallowed hard. That was a  _lot_  of blood.

Shawn slowly looked up at him. "W-What does that mean?"

"That means," he said, "you're… on a clock, here."

Shawn laid his head back on the ground, fighting the growing fear in his gut. "Where are we? Wh-Where's H-Heston?"

Aaron quirked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The crazy dude," Shawn clarified hollowly. He shut his eyes briefly, cursing the throbbing behind them.

"You know him?" asked Aaron incredulously.

Shawn shook his head, then froze, pain shooting through his skull. He winced, eyes screwing shut.

"Shawn-hey… you okay there, kid?"

It took a moment for the pain to die down enough for him to reply. Without opening his eyes, he said tightly, "Yeah." Shawn swallowed. "I work for the cops sometimes. When the… the guy came in, I hid."

He could imagine Aaron nod. "Ah, that's why I didn't see you earlier, then."

"I talked to one of the cops outside," continued Shawn. "The guy's some criminal, Charles Heston. Not a good dude."

"You're telling me."

"Where is he?" asked Shawn suddenly, forcing his eyes open as he remembered the current threat. He looked around, but stopped as his vision swam violently. He froze, clamping down his lips as nausea rocked in his system.

"Deep breaths," said Aaron quietly. "In, out."

Shawn listened, breathing shallowly. As the sick feeling passed, he laid his head back down and slowly opened his eyes. "Th-thanks."

Aaron nodded. "And he's over there," he said, jerking his head to the side, but before Shawn could look on reflex, Aaron said, "No-don't look. Don't move your head. It'll just make you sick. Seems you have yourself a nasty concussion."

Shawn almost nodded, but stopped himself in time. "What's he doing?"

"Pacing," said Aaron. "He's got his gun trained on me, though."

"Surprised he let you help me," said Shawn.

"It took a little convincing."

Shawn looked at him through cracked lids, and Aaron gave him a confident grin. "Hmm. You might be a badass doctor."

Aaron laughed quietly. "That was the goal."

Shawn laughed, then pain shot through his abdomen. He cried out, his hands scrabbling for his abdomen. A firm hand grabbed his, keeping him immobilized. "Shh, lay still. Don't move."

Shawn breathed hard, eyes squeezed shut. "Shit," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Okay," said Aaron, his voice ebbing a bit of panic, shooting fear into Shawn's veins. He cracked his eyes back open. Aaron's eyes were trained on his abdomen. "The bullet must have cracked or broken some of your ribs," he said. He then took a breath and turned a heavily apologetic look toward Shawn. "And that would make my putting pressure on it about a thousand times more painful. I'm sorry."

Shawn laid his head back down. "'S okay."

"You said you work with the cops?" said Aaron.

"Yeah," said Shawn tightly. "I'm a detective."

"What's supposed to happen in this situation?" he asked. "What's he waiting for?"

"A call," said Shawn. He blinked his eyes back open. "The cops are gonna call him, ask his demands, yada, yada, yada."

"And when's that supposed to happen?" asked Aaron hesitantly.

Just then, a ring pierced the silence. Shawn winced at the shrill sound, cursing both the volume and the irony as a pair of feet approached them.

"Finally," said a gruff voice, and Shawn squinted, seeing Heston walk into his line of sight. He glared at both Shawn and Aaron, and said, "If either of you say a damned word, doctor here gets a hole in his arm." Shawn and Aaron slowly looked at each other, both sharing the same mix of emotions. Heston reached the phone and answered it on speaker phone, keeping both hands on the gun, aimed at Aaron. "What?" he demanded.

A smooth voice came on the other line, saying, "Charles, it's good to meet you. My name's John, I'm out here with the Santa Barbara Police Department. How are you feeling in there?"

"Cut the crap," Heston growled. "You're gonna do whatever I want or I'm killin' these people."

"Now hold on a second, Charles," said the voice. "If we're going to do something for you, you've got to do something for me," said "John", and Shawn nearly rolled his eyes at the by-the-book dialogue.

"In hell!" growled Heston. "I already gave ya nearly all of my hostages! You've gotten enough! And if I don't get what I want, you ain't getting these two back alive!"

"All right, all right," said John. "Just take it easy, there, Charles. Let's just get to know each other a little better, okay? I-" Sudden commotion erupted on the other line, and suddenly a new, quite angry and very familiar voice came on, all-but shouting, "All right, Heston, listen up, and listen good."

Shawn's eyebrows shot up. "Lassie?" he whispered to himself.

Lassiter's voice was sharp and furious. The last thing, Shawn knew, that a cop should be while trying to negotiate with a crazy hostage-taker, was furious. "You've got two guys in there, one of them we know you shot."

Shawn blinked.

"Now," said Lassiter, "if you want us to work with you, we need to know if you've got an injured guy in there or a dead guy." His voice left a heavy silence. Shawn bit his lip, eyes glued to the gun aimed at Aaron. The urge to shout something-anything-was more blinding than the pain. "Put him on the line."

Heston's face twisted. "You don't get to call the shots when I hold all the-"

" _Put him on the line_  or I swear to god I will kick your ass to hell and back, asshole." Shawn was torn between terror, surprise, and rolling his eyes as he could have sworn he heard an exasperated " _Carlton!"_  in the background.

Heston ground his teeth, glaring at Shawn, and Shawn knew  _exactly_  why that man looked like he was so angry with him. Shawn had effectively taken nearly every bargaining chip from the man. Yeah, he'd have been furious with himself too, should the situation be reversed.

But Heston finally sighed sharply and said, "Fine." He turned the gun from Aaron to Shawn, and said, "Try anything and I'll shoot ya." Shawn heard the unspoken threat in those words:  _tell the truth, and you're as good as dead_.

Shawn weakly cleared his throat, trying to gain some strength in his voice. "Hey there, Lassieface!" he said, though even he knew it was a sorry pass for his usual exuberance. "I didn't know you cared!"

"Spencer," said Lassiter, and Shawn could have sworn he heard relief. "Are you all right?"

"That's enough," Heston cut off, leaning down to press the muzzle of the gun to Shawn's temple, a silent order to keep quiet. Shawn glared at him. He cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the pain from his voice. "I'm fine, Lassie. Bullet barely even hit me. You can tell Jules to stop worrying."

"See? He's fine," said Heston, pulling the gun away and Shawn shut his eyes as the pain throbbed through his entire being. "Nicked him in the side," he said. "Are ya satisfied?"

Lassiter was silent for a few moments, and it was the kind of finite silence that told Shawn he muted his line. He was talking with the other cops. He came back after a moment, and said gruffly, "What do you want, Heston?"

"A car," he said. "A good one, fully gassed up. Not one of them cop ones with the GPS trackers and whatever. If you play tricks, I'll know. And they'll die. And I want money. Untraceable bills. A hundred thousand. And when they get here, I'm gonna get in that car. And y'all are gonna let me. And I'm gonna get away. That clear?"

A beat. Then, "We need time," said Lassiter.

"I ain't-"

"These things take  _time_ , Heston!" growled Lassiter. "We don't just steal the damn things and give them to you bastards!"

Shawn winced. He himself didn't like following the book but if Lassiter pissed off this guy too much, he knew Heston wouldn't be afraid to hurt him further, or Aaron for that matter, in a non-fatal manner.

"Fine," snapped Heston.

"I need three hours," said Lassiter.

"You've got two," said Heston firmly. He grabbed the phone and slammed it back down on the receiver, effectively ending the call. He then turned back to Aaron and Shawn, the gun aimed at them both. "And once I get that car, I'm killin' you both." He stood up and walked a few feet away, pacing again, but keeping his eyes and gun trained on them.

Shawn blinked heavily, pain and exhaustion mixing in with each other. Shawn felt a hand close around his wrist. He looked at Aaron, whose face was pale as a sheet. Shawn blinked. "What?"

"Your pulse is slowing," said Aaron quietly. "And Heston gave the cops two hours," he said hollowly, eyes falling to the blood spreading frighteningly far across the floor. "But... by the look of this…" He swallowed. "You've only got one."


	4. Chapter 4

"Shawn…"

Something was pulling at his arm. Hard. Shawn groaned as it moved him and ignited a fire in his abdomen.

"Shawn!" Another pull. "Wake  _up_ , Shawn!"

The voice sounded urgent, and familiar. Shawn cracked his eyes open. Light burned his vision and he shut them again, letting out another groan. He tried to move, but the fire raged into an inferno and he bit back a cry, eyes shooting back open.

A heavy sigh. "Thank god."

"Wh…" began Shawn, thoroughly disoriented. "Wh't happ'ned?" he rasped.

"You passed out."

_Passed out_?

"I did..?" started Shawn, laying his head back down.

Another sigh. A faster one. Impatient. "It's me, Aaron. We're hostages in a bank, remember? You got shot. You passed out."

Memories hit him like a freight train.

_Walking into the bank to deposit the check. Crazy guy with gun. Gunshots. Hostages. Blood, lots of blood. Pain, lots of pain._

Shawn shot off the ground only for a world of pain to shove him back down. This time he did cry out.  _Stupid_. He breathed hard, feeling a hand gripping his arm.

"Shawn? Shawn!"

"I remember," he panted out through heavy breaths.

"Shut up!" came an angry growl from a few feet away, in some direction Shawn couldn't see. Heston.

"Are you okay?" asked Aaron quietly, brows crinkled together with obvious concern.

Shawn just shut his eyes. Both he and Aaron knew he was far from  _okay_. "Yeah. Shit. How long was I out?"

"You've been in and out for almost forty-five minutes," came Aaron's hollow reply. He gestured to Shawn's abdomen and Shawn carefully lifted his head an inch to see. His own plaid button down shirt had been taken off and was now tied tightly around his waist. From what he could remember, it looked like the bleeding had slowed a little. "I bandaged you up as well as I could but... " He swallowed hard. "Shawn, you don't have long. The cops said they were going to take two  _hours_. You don't have another hour in you! You-"

"Hey, hey," said Shawn, shutting his eyes as the world spun and laying his head back down on the ground. "'S okay, we'll figure something out."

A sharp slap to his cheek convinced his eyes to open again. He glanced at Aaron in confusion. The doctor's concern had suddenly morphed into firm determination. "Stay awake, Shawn! At this rate, if you drift again…"

Shawn swallowed. Hard. He didn't need any help finishing that sentence.

_Okay… keepin' the eyes open._

"Great," muttered Shawn. "What's the plan, doc?"

Aaron looked at him like he was crazy. "Plan?  _Plan_?! I don't know! You're the cop!"

Shawn kneaded his eyebrows. "Oh. Right."

"Look," said Aaron heavily, rubbing his eyes. "You need medical assistance  _yesterday_. Is there anything we can do to… I don't know, speed this thing up?"

Shawn lifted a weak finger to the air. "Just a reminder… 'speeding this up' means that Heston gets what he… what he wants, and th-then we get personalized bullets in us." He blinked his eyes to clear the haze, fighting the exhaustion.

"But if we  _don't_  speed things up," stressed Aaron, "you're going to bleed out! Isn't there a chance that if Heston gets what he wants, the cops can miraculously swoop in and take him down and save us?"

Shawn creased his face, thinking. "I mean,  _miraculously_ -"

"So they can, then." Shawn's brows sunk deeper, not exactly sure he'd said that, but Aaron went on anyway, "We just have to get them to do this deal  _now_."

"But-"

" _Regardless_ ," said Aaron firmly, stopping Shawn's words instantly. "We don't have many other options, do we? If we do nothing, we die. If we do  _something_ , then without a miracle, we die."

Thinking was already fuzzy as it was. Shawn blinked slowly, saying, "I guess that sounds like… like a rock and a hard plate to me."

Aaron just looked at him. "Don't you mean 'a rock and a hard  _place_ '?"

"Nah." Shawn carefully shook his head. "Heard't both ways."

Aaron rubbed a hand over his face. "Shawn, we have to do something. We don't really have any other choice."

Shawn blinked heavily. "If you say so, doc."

"Well, we just have to contact the cops outside somehow. But I don't think we can make a phone call without being shot." Shawn lazily tracked Aaron as the young doctor shifted his gaze around the room. He could still hear Heston's footsteps as the gunman paced across the floor, occasionally muttering to himself as he did.

Shawn shut his eyes for a moment, willing his memory to sharpen. He retraced his steps of the day, stopping when he was entering the bank. He took a moment to freeze the picture in his mind of the outside of the bank. Glass front doors, two small windows on the front of the bank for what must be offices, and around the corner, a side door. He'd seen it when he drove up on his Norton. But the door was locked from the outside (what? No one else had tried it thinking it was the entrance?). But… it was most likely able to open from the  _inside_.

Shawn opened his eyes, finding a worried Aaron staring down at him. The young doctor sighed audibly as he saw Shawn's eyes open. Feeling a bit sharper, and a bit worried at just how much he had been drifting ever since he woke, Shawn almost smiled. "All right. If I distract th-the crazy dude, you gotta high tail it down this hallway all the way to the end. There's a side door that will lead outside."

Aaron lifted a brow. "How did you know that?"

Shawn smirked weakly. "Told ya I was psychic, remember?" Before Aaron could reply, he continued hollowly, "You can leave through there and get to the cops. Tell 'em I'm dying and whatever. Make sure you're talking to t-the tall, lanky one with the salt and p-pepper hair. And then w-we'll hope your miraculous rescue happens and hooray, happy ending."

If anything, Aaron almost looked  _mad_. "What are you talking about?" he hissed. "You want me to  _leave_? I'm not leaving you here!"

"You have to!" Shawn hissed back, though his retort held hardly any power behind it. He dropped his head back to the ground but held Aaron's gaze.

"No! Do you have any idea what he'll do to you? He could shoot you again!" Aaron whispered angrily. "He could  _kill_  you!"

"He won't!" exclaimed Shawn in the same angry whisper. "If you take off r-running, he's only got one hostage left-me. He's not gonna kill me, doc."

Aaron bit his lip, obviously searching for another excuse. "But-but I'm not leaving you  _behind_ , Shawn!"

Shawn shut his eyes briefly then opened them, allowing true desperation to leak through. "Aaron, you  _have_  to. Look…" He winced as a throb of pain laced through his abdomen. He glanced at the blood, then back to Aaron. "We both know I'm gonna die." Silence followed Shawn's statement. They both stared at each other, the harsh truth hanging between them in the air. "But  _you_  don't have to.  _You_  can get out. M-miraculous rescue or not, we… we both know it's gonna be a long shot for me to make it." Shawn dropped his gaze. "Thank you for… trying. But you have to go."

Aaron stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "Shawn, I can't let you do that for me. Not after you risked your life to save all those hostages! To save  _me_! What kind of a sorry 'thank you' would it be for me to leave you behind?!"

"The best one, doc!" exclaimed Shawn with waning strength. He laid his head back down, pain ebbing at his abdomen and sparking tears to his eyes. He bit back a moan and fisted his hand into the material of his jeans. He breathed hard, opening his eyes. "S-Saving people is wh-what I do." He sighed. "Well, 's what I  _try_  to do." Shawn took another breath, lifting his eyes back to Aaron's. "I d-did what I did to save them. And you, Aaron," he whispered. "Please don't let it be for… for nothing."

Shawn held the other man's gaze. Finally, Aaron slowly nodded. He bit his lip and nodded. "Fine. Okay. How are we going to do this?"

Silently thankful he managed to convince the man, Shawn shut his eyes, thinking. He opened one eye and looked at Aaron. "Where's he?"

"Five feet from my right," Aaron whispered back.

"Yo!" said Shawn loudly, then grimaced as his abdomen screamed in pain. He did his best to ignore it. "Hostage man, yoo hoo!" Shawn waved a hand. "Over here!"

"What?" came a sharp, angry reply.

As he heard Heston begin to approach, Shawn hissed to Aaron, "Be ready to run. Door at the end of the hallway. Minute he t-turns his back." Out of the corner of his eye, Shawn saw Aaron nod.

Heston stopped beside Shawn, and Shawn heard the cock of a gun. He looked up to see the barrel aimed at his chest. He gave the man a lazy smile. "Hey! Nice to s-see you again."

"You are gonna shut up," Heston growled, "or I'm gonna  _make_ you shut up."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Shawn quickly. His slow mind searched for something that would distract the man. He just hoped it would work. "I j-just wanted to help you out a little. I w-work for the… the police department sometimes. And they've got some… some nifty new little toys to h-help them track cars they lone to felons like yourself." Shawn hesitated, but when no bullet entered his body, he felt it safe to continue. "They p-put them on the f-front bumper," said Shawn unsteadily, trying to strengthen his voice.  _A little longer. Just keep it together a little longer and then you can sleep. Forever_. Unsteadily, he continued, "They probably got the c-car out… out there," said Shawn, pointing toward the window. "If y-you see a little red thing under the… the bumper, you know they're tricking you. You can… can probably see it from there."

Shawn risked a look upward, knowing he wouldn't have had a  _chance_  to distract a criminal who knew what the hell they were doing with the crap he just made up. But this guy had obviously lost more than a few marbles. Muttering to himself, shooting hostages before even  _taking_ them, hell, the man's  _shirt_  was on backwards. This man was  _just_  nervous and crazed enough that this simple suggestion might be enough to take his focus.

"Bastards," Heston finally huffed out, lowering the gun and stalking a few steps toward the windows. He stayed clear away from the windows still, knowing enough to at least stay away from snipers, and he squinted out the window. "Which car is even… hey!" Heston stalked back to Shawn, gun held high, but Shawn only grinned as Heston's eyes widened.

Because Aaron was already gone.

* * *

Aaron ran.

He didn't look back. He heard Heston shouting something behind him, and he was suddenly terrified for Shawn. Heston was half-crazed with a  _gun_. He'd already shot Shawn once; nothing was stopping him from doing it again. Aaron doubted the man even understood just how hurt Shawn was. It would be so easy for him to take things too far...

_No_ , he told himself firmly.  _You're_ doing  _this for Shawn. He'll be okay._

Aaron saw the door at the end of the hallway. He could see an empty street from beyond the glass. He reached it and grabbed the door handle.  _Doing this for Shawn. Just like he did for everyone else_.

He paused.

Shawn was shot, bleeding,  _dying_. Just to save a room full of strangers. Aaron didn't know the guy from Adam, nowhere close. But there was something so genuine, so brave, so…  _selfless_  about him. If this was Shawn under stress and pressure, he could only imagine what kind of person, what kind of  _cop_ , he was on a normal day. And Shawn did what he did today for everyone else. Shawn had used precious seconds to try to help  _him_. Shawn wouldn't have been caught and knocked out if he hadn't stopped for Aaron. Shawn had stayed, for someone he didn't even  _know_.

Heaving out a sigh, Aaron released the door knob and took half a step back. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. "Forgive me, Shawn," he whispered, hating to break his promise to the younger man.

But there was no way in hell he was going to let Shawn die alone after what he'd done for him.

Someone needed to save  _him_.

Feeling both terrified and slightly out of his mind, Aaron turned away from the door and scanned the hallway. Two open offices stood next to him and looking into the one closest to him, he breathed out in relief. There was a  _window_.

Aaron let himself quickly into the office and shut and locked the door. Heston hadn't come after him yet, but that only served to scare him more. That meant he was still with Shawn.

The window on the wall across from him was high and small; definitely far too small to fit through. But it would be perfect for what he wanted to do.

Aaron grabbed a stapler from the desk and faced the window. He drew his arm back, and punched through it.

* * *

Lassiter let out a breath through his nose.

The car was here and the money just arrived.  _Too soon_ , he thought bitterly. He instructed the officers to keep them out of sight from Heston. He wasn't ready. None of them were. They hardly had a chance to set up a perimeter. Vick was somewhere, still on the phone with several airports in the area to brief them on a felon who might try to leave the city. But only half of their precautions were finished. And it's been an hour already.

"Do you think Shawn's okay?"

Lassiter looked to his left, where Juliet had suddenly appeared. Her forehead was creased with worry. Not that he'd ever admit it, but hearing the psychic's voice on the other side of the line during that phone call was a huge relief. The moment he had heard that Shawn was bleeding and unconscious, he'd assumed the worst. That Spencer had been shot somewhere dangerous and was already…

Lassiter shook himself. Since when did he care about  _Spencer_?

"He'll be fine," said Lassiter. "You heard him. As long as he doesn't piss off Heston, which is unfortunately still very likely, he should be fine. I just don't want this bastard getting away."

"Tear gas?" asked Juliet, looking at him. "We've used tear gas and flash grenades before-"

"Not with such a trigger happy hostage taker," said Lassiter. That actually wasn't true; procedure would still allow them to go in with tear gas. But those were messy and an extremely high risk. If hostages were in close proximity of the hostage taker, there's nothing stopping them from shooting… Lassiter shook himself. It was simply too much of a risk. Not when he wasn't willing casualties. Not when it was Spencer.

Lassiter scoffed. This "caring" thing was getting ridiculous.

"They're working on putting a tracker on the car," said Lassiter, gesturing to where the car was parked about a block away. "But it takes time. We need  _time_."

Juliet looked like she was about to reply when a shout from behind them cut her off.

" _Detective Lassiter_!"

Lassiter shut his eyes.

Great.

"Henry," said Lassiter, turning around to face the older man. Henry Spencer was angry. No,  _livid_. The man's face was red and his truck was parked haphazardly amongst all the police cars. Henry had ripped the caution tape that held their perimeter and two officers were both next to him, desperately trying to drag him back.

"He's fine," muttered Lassiter to the two officers. Henry yanked his arms from their grips. He stared at the bank, switching his gaze from the building to Lassiter. "And Henry, you can be here but you need to stand behind the cauti-"

"Like  _hell_  I will!" roared Henry. "An hour? An  _hour_?" he exclaimed. "You wait an  _hour_  to tell me that my son has been shot and is being held hostage? A fricken'  _hour_?!"

"Henry, please-" began Juliet.

"You called him?" exclaimed Lassiter in a whisper. He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Of course I called him!" said Juliet angrily. "He's Shawn's  _father_ , Carlton! He has a right to be here!"

"Not if he's going to be making things  _worse_!" growled Lassiter. He turned back to Henry. "And Shawn is fine. He said he was nicked by the bullet. He's going to be fine. We're planning to just do the deal with this guy and catch him when he takes off."

Henry opened and closed his mouth, like he was trying to say something, but only rubbed the back of his neck and looked all but lost. Lassiter felt a spark of guilt. Maybe  _he_  had been relieved when he heard Shawn was only grazed by the bullet, but hearing that Shawn had sustained  _any_  bullet injury had to be hard for Henry. This  _was_  the man's son, after all.

Lassiter swallowed, and put a hand on Henry's shoulder until the older man looked at him. "We'll get him home," he said quietly. "I promise."

Henry only stared back, then looked back at the building. He let out an unsteady sigh.

A high-pitched squeal sounded behind them, and they each turned to see a little blue car screeching to a stop next to Henry's truck. Gus launched himself out of the tiny vehicle, hurdling the stretch of caution tape in front of him and reaching them with panting breaths. He leaned over his knees, breathing hard.

"Gus-" began Juliet, but Gus held up a hand.

"I'm okay, I was at work…" He seemed to catch his breath, and he looked back up at the bank, fear written into his eyes. "Is Shawn out of there yet? Is he okay? What the hell-what happened?!"

Briefly, Juliet explained the situation to him.

"But Spencer will be  _fine_ ," stressed Lassiter for what felt like the millionth time. "The bullet only grazed him. We spoke with him an hour ago, he was completely  _fine_."

Gus rubbed a hand over his face, looking caught between words. Finally, he spluttered, "But… but what the hell was Shawn even  _doing_  here? I told him to deposit our Psych check today!"

Lassiter gave him a 'duh' expression. "Uh, Guster. This is a  _bank_. He probably was."

Gus gave a wild gesture to the building. "But this isn't even our  _bank_!"

Resisting the urge to slap himself in the face, Lassiter shook his head. "Look, both of you have to-"

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering had them all whipping around.

Three S.W.A.T. guys were already running up to the window on the far end of the building, and Lassiter was right on their heels. Somewhere behind him he felt three sets of footsteps following him, but at this rate, he didn't care.  _Spencer got away_?

"Move," snapped Lassiter, shoving one of the S.W.A.T. guys out of his way. He reached the window, gun drawn in front of him, but it wasn't Heston. And, to Lassiter's surprising dismay, it wasn't Spencer, either. It was someone else.

This man was younger than Lassiter himself, maybe in his early thirties. He had genuine look about him, with wide but determined eyes behind glasses.  _The other hostage_? Lassiter lowered his gun. He immediately realized that the window was too small for the guy to fit through. No escape that way. "What's happening, who are you?" he demanded.

"Aaron Aldaman, Detective," said the guy- _Aaron_. "I'm one of the hostages in here. You know the other one right? Shawn?"

Lassiter's chest caught. "Spencer, yeah. What happened? Is he okay? You okay?"

"Sir," said one of the S.W.A.T. guys. "Window's too small to get him through."

"Thanks, tell me something I don't know," snapped Lassiter, turning back to Aaron.

"Shawn distracted him, but Heston's still with him," said Aaron quickly. "I managed to get away."

"Mr. Aldaman," said Juliet from Lassiter's side. "We can't get you out this way. But if you lock yourself inside we'll be able to get you once this is all over and you'll be safe-"

"My son," Henry suddenly cut in, pushing in front of Lassiter. For the first time, Lassiter did nothing but growl in annoyance. "Shawn. Is he okay? They said he was hit by a bullet."

Aaron's face visibly lost a bit of color, sending a sharp stab of fear into Lassiter's chest. "That's why I'm here. It wasn't a graze. He took the bullet to his abdomen."

Lassiter shut his eyes.  _Shit._

"He's bleeding out," continued Aaron. "He doesn't have long. I'm a doctor, I did my best but I have nothing in here to help him. You need to do the deal now, get him to a medic as soon as possible. He needs a hospital  _now_."

"He-" Henry's breath caught. Lassiter looked at the older man. Tears had suddenly appeared in the man's eyes. "He- oh, my god." He turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Shawn's…" Gus swallowed hard. "He's gonna be okay, right, doc?"

Aaron didn't reply right away. "You need to do the deal now."

Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. They weren't ready.  _They weren't ready_. But they were apparently going to have to be.

"I'm going in there," said Henry in a low voice, and both Lassiter and Juliet grabbed him and yanked him back.

"No, you aren't!" said Lassiter. "You go in there, Shawn's in even more danger! We can give the guy a car, track him later. But we can't do that with a gun to Spencer's head or another bullet in him!"

Henry visibly flinched at those words.

"That's just it-" said Aaron quickly. "Heston said he was going to kill us the moment he got what he wanted."

Lassiter swore under his breath. What the hell  _now_?

"Okay," said Lassiter, nodding. "We can work with that. We'll do everything we can to get you both out safe. But you have to stay in that room, you'll be safer. Actually-" A memory clicked in Lassiter's head. "There's a side door." Lassiter jabbed a thumb at one of the S.W.A.T. guys. "Can you bust that open with little to no sound-?"

"No," said Aaron firmly. "I've seen the door. I'm not leaving. Shawn needs pressure on that wound. I'm going back."

Lassiter looked at him like he was insane. "Are you-are you  _insane_? He could kill you!"

"I don't care!" growled Aaron, and Lassiter was surprised to hear such a tone from the man. "He's bleeding out and from the look of it has minutes without help! And he-he is the only reason all those hostages are out there, safe and sound. Someone's gotta do it for him, too."

Lassiter felt his eyebrows quirk up. The determination and courage of a cop. Knowing there was honestly nothing he could do to stop the man, he ground his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to see him go back into harm's way. But he wasn't about to stand in the way if he was going to prolong Shawn's life.

"All right," said Lassiter. "We'll do the deal now." As Aaron started to turn, an idea sprang to Lassiter. "But, hold on. I'm going to get you something, just as a precaution." Lassiter whispered his idea to the S.W.A.T. guy beside him, who nodded and ran back to their truck.

Henry suddenly extended a hand through the broken window to Aaron. With a strong, grateful gaze, Henry said, "Thank you."

Aaron took it and shook it, giving the older man a grim smile. Just after that, the S.W.A.T. guy was back with Lassiter's request. Lassiter looked back at Aaron and nodded at him. "Precaution."

Aaron looked to the S.W.A.T. guy's hands and back to Lassiter. He nodded and reached for it. "Thank you, Detective."

"All right!" shouted Lassiter, startling a few of the officers around the perimeter. "Get his demands, now!" He turned and watched Aaron disappear from the window. He shut his eyes and breathed out a sigh, hoping against hope that he would see the man alive when this was all over.

* * *

Shawn felt an immense amount of pressure leave his chest as Aaron took off, on his way to freedom. Knowing that Aaron would escape, would be okay, was all that he wanted from this. He shut his eyes, breathing through the pain in his abdomen. Now, he could sleep. Finally, just let go of reality, release his tight grip on the edge of his strength and fade away…

Pain erupted in his torso, so strong that it whited out every other sense and all that it left was agony. Shawn's mouth was open in a silent scream, his eyes shooting back open to see that he'd been lifted off the ground and thrown against the desk so that he was now upright, leaning heavily against it. Heston was yelling at him, waving the gun in his face, but Shawn couldn't hear him over the ringing in his own ears. His vision swayed and blurred and he suddenly felt very, very sick. He willed the nausea away, only focusing on breathing, just  _breathing_ , and his shaking hands scrabbled on the ground, for something to grab, to hold, just to alleviate the fire raging in his abdomen.

A slap to his face brought his hearing back and Shawn panted, trying to right his vision. Heston was in front of him, the gun pressed to his temple. "Where'd he go? What did you tell him? What the hell did you  _do_?!"

"I… I… I…" Words didn't come. Shawn's breath was too broken. Tears stung his eyes. "I don't know," he managed. Through his haphazardly puzzled vision, he could see Heston looking after where Aaron took off and back to Shawn, obviously wondering what to do. Shawn could practically see the wheels turning in the man's mind. Chase after the hostage that got away or hold onto the one he has.

He wasn't chasing after Aaron, and Shawn was grateful. Aaron would get away. He would be okay. Shawn actually felt himself smiling.

Another slap whipped his head to the side. He shook himself, trying to make sense of the situation that felt only half real. "You- you're gonna pay for this, you bastard!" growled Heston.

_Yeah…_ Shawn thought distantly.  _I get it. I'd hate me, too_.

With an angry growl, Heston slammed the gun into Shawn's head, making his vision flicker. He breathed hard, clinging painfully hard onto just staying awake.

Just staying  _alive_.

He looked down at his hands, which found their way to cradling his abdomen. His hands and arms were bright red with blood. The sight forced his eyes closed again.

It was getting harder to keep them open.

Heston didn't release Shawn's shoulder, keeping him pinned to the desk. Shawn didn't really blame him. The man was finally realizing he sucked at keeping hostages.

Shawn didn't know how long they were there for, until footsteps suddenly sounded from the hallway. Blearily, Shawn lifted his head and opened his eyes. And suddenly…

Aaron walked into view.

Shawn's eyes widened.  _What… but… what is he_ doing  _here?!_ Shawn weakly glared at the doctor, hissing, "Wh-what the h-hell are… are you doing here, doc?!"

Aaron looked terrified. He was eyeing how Heston was restraining him and the blood coating him and the floor. Shawn was suddenly glad he was going to die. He wasn't sure the blood staining his skin would ever wash off.

"I-I'm not leaving you," said Aaron shakily. He raised his hands as Heston aimed the gun at him.

"Where the hell did you think you were goin'?" demanded Heston angrily.

"Nowhere!" exclaimed Aaron. "I… I just-"

"Enough!" Heston roared. He roughly released Shawn and stood. "I've had enough of this!"

As if by miracle, the bank landline rang. Without moving the gun from Aaron's chest, Heston looked over to the phone and then with a growl picked it up. "What?" He listened for a moment, then said, "Finally! All right, you're gonna do this  _exactly_  as I say you're gonna do it! You're gonna park that car at the side door of this place," said Heston, eyeing the hallway where Aaron came from. "The money's gonna be in the back seat. All your cops are gonna stay away! Completely outta sight! And then I'm gonna get in it, and I'm gonna drive away. You get your people when I'm gone. Is that clear?" He waited. "Good. Now yer gonna call me once it's there."

He slammed the phone down and the three of them waited. It wasn't another few, painfully long minutes of Shawn's harsh breathing and Aaron's concerned gaze until the phone rang again. Heston hit the speaker phone this time. "Speak!"

"It's where you wanted it," came Lassiter's voice. "We're all away from it. You can even look."

Heston looked over through the window, somewhere Shawn couldn't see. He looked down the hallway to where Shawn knew the door was. Seeming satisfied, Heston nodded to himself. He hung up the call and then looked down at Shawn.

"Y-You got what you… what you want," said Shawn hollowly. "You don't have t-to kill us."

Heston leaned down, but kept his gun trained on Aaron. "And I'm not gonna. I don't trust those cops. You say they got them trackers in their cars? I'm not riskin' that. So, I'm taking you with me. Having a hostage with me will keep them where they belong if they catch up ta me."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Wait, b-but-"

"No!" exclaimed Aaron, even as Heston slung his free arm around Shawn's torso. With surprising strength, he lifted Shawn to his own chest. Shawn cried out as it pulled at his abdomen, and pain blackened his vision for a terrifying second.

"Shawn!"

"Now, walk!" demanded Heston, and Shawn blearily saw that Heston was nudging Aaron with the gun to his back. Reluctantly, Aaron walked toward the door. Through the small window of the side door, they could easily see the empty area and the lone car sitting feet from the door. Once they reached the door, Aaron stopped and turned.

"What now?" asked Aaron.

"Now?" Heston asked, a smile in his voice. Shawn's heart tripled in speed. Not good.  _Not good at all_. He raised the gun toward Aaron's chest. "You're suddenly irrelevant."

Fear skyrocketed in Shawn's veins. "No, no, no! Don't! Please, don't-" But Heston ignored him. He cocked the gun, and Aaron's eyes widened with terror.

" _No_!" screamed Shawn.

Aaron closed his eyes.

And Heston fired.

The bullet struck Aaron in the chest. The force of it knocked Aaron against the wall, a hole in his shirt, directly over his heart. He fell to the ground and laid still. He didn't get up.

Shawn gaped at him, tears burning his eyes, spilling over his cheeks. He couldn't speak. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Not even as Heston yanked the door open and dragged him outside. Not even as pain seized him, and his mouth was open in an unstoppable scream. Not even as he was shoved into the passenger seat of the car, the door shut behind him.

Tears fell freely over his face, grief and guilt and agony and failure burning him from the inside out. The car was started and peeled onto the street and away from the bank. But Shawn didn't care. He couldn't. It was too much. Too much.

_I'm sorry, Aaron_. Strength faded, and Shawn's eyes fell shut. His head fell to the window and his breathing hitched. Tears still hot on his skin, Shawn let out a last breath, succumbing to the creeping cold and numbness. Fear gripped him in that moment, the first moment the truth finally, finally became real. The truth that he spoke and thought but never truly let sink in until now.

The truth that he was about to die.

And there was no one left to save him.


	5. Chapter 5

Juliet watched the officers park the sedan around the corner of the building. Her entire body was rigid with fear. She couldn't stop replaying what the other hostage- _Aaron_ -had said.

" _Heston said he was going to kill us the moment he got what he wanted_."

Negotiating with hostage takers was always risky, always dangerous. Because it came down to trust.  _Trust_  in the fact that both parties would actually make good on their promise once they got the other end of the deal. S.W.A.T. was ready, braced to bust through the front entrance the moment Heston took the car and left.

 _But he could still kill them beforehand_.

Nothing was stopping Heston from killing Shawn or Aaron.

Juliet couldn't breathe.

Henry was beside her, looking just as shaken. The older man's face was white, devoid of color. Gus was on Henry's other side and looked very much like he was going to be sick. Because even if Heston left and made good on the deal, Shawn wasn't okay. He  _already_  wasn't okay. Shawn was bleeding out.

Shawn was  _dying_.

Lassiter suddenly appeared at Juliet's other side. His face was pinched and his scowl was missing.

Juliet had never seen the man look so openly terrified in her life.

"Everything is set." came the Chief's voice from behind Juliet. Juliet turned, seeing Vick's face tight and exhausted. She'd made Lassiter Point on this case but had been getting the demands together all afternoon. The moment they briefed her on Shawn's condition all the color had drained out of her face.

"All right," said Lassiter, pulling out his phone. "I'm making the call."

"Be ready to move in," said Vick firmly. She leveled him with a hard gaze that softened into something almost desperate. "Bring our man  _home_."

Lassiter set his jaw and nodded. He fixed a look at the lead S.W.A.T. member. "On my count." The man gave him a sharp nod and Lassiter dialed on the phone. It picked up after the second ring, " _What_?"

Rage boiled underneath Juliet's skin but she held it back. They would get this bastard.  _She_  would. If it was the last thing she did.

"It's parked outside the side door," said Lassiter emotionlessly. "Money's in the backseat. Now, you listen and you listen hard," said Lassiter with a snarl. "If you injure  _either one of those men_  more than you already have, then I swear to-"

The line dropped dead.

Juliet glared at the building, anger and fear making her eyes burn. Anticipation seized her muscles and she drew her gun as Lassiter did. They crept toward the S.W.A.T. members and waited for the distinct sound of the car's engine starting. They waited. Silence thickened over the crowd.

The crack of a gunshot pierced it, startling every single person outside.

Juliet's chest seized.

 _Shawn_.

Juliet's heart leapt into her throat, fear practically blinding her. She looked desperately to Lassiter, who shouted, " _Move! Move! Move!_ "

As one, the group of S.W.A.T. members, Lassiter, Juliet, Gus and Henry sprinted forward. The glass doors shattered as S.W.A.T. barreled through them. They ran into the bank, and Juliet whipped her head around, looking for any sign of Heston, Aaron or Shawn.

" _Sir_!" came a shout from the radios on both Juliet and Lassiter's hips. " _Heston took the car._ "

More rage singed in Juliet's veins but she couldn't care about Heston now. She scanned the bank as they ran, terrified to see Shawn somewhere, bleeding, a bullet in his head…

The lobby of the bank was eerily empty. Juliet and Lassiter ran past it, heading for the hallway when she skidded to a stop. Behind one of the desks was a pool of blood. Her hand flew to her chest and she actually stumbled back a step. "Carl-ton," she gasped out. The pool was feet wide. Deep crimson. She knew without a doubt it was Shawn's.  _He lost this much and is still alive_ …?

"Holy shit," breathed Lassiter.

"Where are they?" came a choked voice behind them. Henry was beside her, his face even whiter than before. He wasn't looking at the blood. And Juliet realized that he  _couldn_ ' _t_.

"I…" Juliet spun in a haphazard circle, locking eyes on the hallway.

"Um…"

They all looked at Gus, who had a shaking arm lifted, pointing toward the blood on the floor. There was a trail of it that led away from them, as if… if Shawn had been dragged…

"Oh, my god," Henry rubbed a hand over his face.

Juliet's chest was hurting and she realized she wasn't breathing. She took a shaking breath and started down the hallway, following the trail of blood. She raised her eyes to where the hallway ended and the door was standing. But that wasn't what stopped her heart.

It was the body lying in front of it.

"Over here!" she screamed, sprinting down to it, terrified,  _terrified_ , that it was Shawn. But it wasn't.

It was  _Aaron_.

She fell to her knees. Aaron was completely still, half leaning against the wall where he'd fallen. Eyes shut, skin pale. There was a bullet hole ripped in the fabric of his shirt, directly over his heart. Juliet felt tears burn and pressed her hand to her mouth.

Lassiter was beside her in seconds, and without hesitation, he slapped Aaron's face. Hard.

"Lassi-" began Juliet in shock.

Lassiter ignored her. He slapped Aaron again. "Wake up! Come on, man! Wake  _up_!"

On the third slap, Aaron's eyes shot open and he jerked backward, coughing hard. Juliet recoiled in shock, her tears freezing on her face. He… but…

 _What_?!

"You're okay," said Lassiter as Aaron coughed. Lassiter grabbed Aaron's shirt and ripped the buttons apart, revealing a black bulletproof vest underneath. The brass bullet was lodged in the material over his heart.

Suddenly, realization shattered her confusion, resurfacing a memory from not twenty minutes before.

" _Okay," said Lassiter, nodding at Aaron who was standing behind the shattered glass of the window he broke. "We'll do everything we can to get you both out safe. But you have to stay in that room, you'll be safer-"_

" _No, Shawn needs pressure on that wound. I'm going back."_

" _Are you-are you insane? He could kill you!"_

" _I don't care!" growled Aaron. "He's bleeding out and from the look of it has minutes without help! And he is the only reason all those hostages are out there, safe and sound. Someone's gotta do it for him, too."_

" _All right," Lassiter growled out. "We'll do the deal now. But, hold on. I'm going to get you something, just as a precaution."_

_Just after that, the S.W.A.T. member was back with Lassiter's request. Lassiter looked back at Aaron and nodded at him. "Precaution."_

_Juliet watched as Aaron looked to the bulletproof vest in the S.W.A.T. member's hands and back to Lassiter. He nodded and reached for it. "Thank you, Detective."_

Juliet shut her eyes in relief, kicking herself for forgetting that Lassiter had given him the vest earlier through the window.

"Where's Shawn?"

Everyone looked up at Henry's voice. Henry's chest was heaving. "Where is my son?!"

"H-He-" Aaron coughed hard again, pulling himself up on the wall. "Heston t-took him," he choked out. "He's in the car. Sh-Shawn's in the car."

Juliet's heart dropped low in his chest.

In the  _car_?

Her tears burned again.

_Shawn._

Everyone seemed to pause for half a second. For half a second that felt like a year. Shawn, who was already pushing his body to its very limit, was still with that crazy madman. Getting further away as they spoke. Dying, or…

Or already...

"You!" Lassiter jabbed a finger at one of the S.W.A.T. guys. "Get this man some medical attention!" He then looked at Juliet, burning his gaze into hers. "Now, let's go get Shawn."

* * *

It was getting colder.

Shawn blinked slowly, watching the buildings slip in and out of his vision through the car window. The sun was still high in the sky. It didn't look cold out there. But he quickly realized that the cold he was suddenly feeling wasn't  _from_  outside. It was inside.

 _He_  was getting colder.

That should have probably worried him. But it didn't. It was actually a welcomed relief from the pain that had been his world ever since he'd been shot. He slowly glanced down, where he was slumped in the passenger's seat, and watched the crimson stain that now painted his whole torso spread. It was sluggishly bleeding and trickling onto the seat of the car. Shawn's eyebrows kneaded. This was a rental. He was pretty certain they didn't cover bloodstains in the insurance.

The cold was spreading. It began in his torso and chest but now he could feel it running down his legs. And it felt good.

He closed his eyes.

A sharp slap to his cheek tore his eyes open.

The pain was so sudden and so raw that suddenly he was thrown forcefully back into reality. Sounds were loud and clear, honking horns muted from the closed windows, the blast of the air conditioning, the roar of an engine being pushed too hard. And now he realized just how fast they were going. A sharp glance to the speedometer read eighty miles an hour. He could feel again now, too. His back was pressed forcefully against the back of his seat from the speed. And the pain was back. He was still cold-shivering, now-but the pain was back with a vengeance.

"Don't you croak, you little bastard," said Heston harshly from the driver's seat.

 _Croak_? thought Shawn blearily.

Numb.

Cold.

Shawn's heart froze.

Maybe he had been about to die.

"N-Nice to know you c-care," said Shawn through chattering teeth. The burst of adrenaline was wearing off quickly. He clung to it, fighting the growing cold inside.

"I don't," Heston said with a scowl. He jerked the wheel hard to the left, throwing Shawn into the door and making him grimace and see black for a terrifying second. "A dead hostage is a useless one," clarified Heston. "I need you alive till I get to the airport. It's just damn fine luck you're hangin' by a thread there. Truth be told, I don't have any bullets left." He gave a sick grin and shook the empty gun in his hand. "Nature's gonna do my dirty work for me, then." Shawn put all his effort into a glare, but doubted the expression made it past a grimace. It already took all his strength to simply just keep his eyes open. Heston's grin only deepened, and it sickened Shawn to realize that Heston was actually  _enjoying_  this. "And this way, ya little shit, I know that no one's gonna get to you in time. I think I told ya I was gonna… make… you… pay." Heston emphasized each last word with a jab of the empty gun to Shawn's temple. Shawn winced with each rap and shut his eyes, laying his head back on the chair, too exhausted to reply.

Airport.

Heston was going to get away.

Aaron's image suddenly flashed back to Shawn's mind with crude clarity. His eyes, wide as Heston aimed the gun. The fear behind them. The damned, pure  _fear_. The bullet, lodging into his chest…

Shawn shut his eyes, grief strong and sharp in his chest.

From the beginning, all Aaron had wanted to do was help. Help the teenager who had gotten hurt. Help Shawn  _himself_  when he was shot. Hell, the man even  _came back_  after getting away, just for  _him_.

And he died for it.

It wasn't  _fair_.

Heston took that man-who even after a few short hours Shawn had actually managed to think of as a  _friend_ -and killed him.

And it  _wasn't fair_.

Shawn's eyes slipped shut.

The cold was spreading again.

He was exhausted. He was so, so exhausted. And he hurt. So, so badly.

But he couldn't let Heston get away. Not after what he did to Aaron. Aaron wasn't going to die for nothing.  _Shawn_  couldn't die for nothing. He  _wouldn't._  Shawn knew one day he would do something just stupid enough to run out his luck. He'd known that from the start. Hell, he was surprised he's lasted  _this_  long without finding the wrong end of a fired gun. But he'd decided one thing a long time ago for sure: if he had to die, it would be  _for_ something.

And today, he was going to die.

There was no denying it now.

There would be no more cases. No more Psych office. No more movie nights. No more…  _anything_. His life was over. He was going to have to leave it all behind. And if he had to, it would not be for nothing. If he had to leave Gus, his dad, Ju-

Shawn's eyes cracked back open.

He would leave Juliet.

 _Jules_.

He hadn't even worked up the courage to tell her. To finally just…  _tell her_. Tell her she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Tell her that he hadn't stopped thinking about her since the day they met. Tell her that he might even lo-

A lone tear fell down his cheek.

But now she'd never know. And he… he'd never know, either.

Her face flashed to his mind. Then Gus'. Then his dad's.

He opened his eyes.

He wouldn't die for nothing.

With new determination, Shawn took a breath. He allowed the last of his adrenaline, the very last of his strength, to fill him, and he locked his eyes on the steering wheel. He took another breath, knowing it would be one of his last. A sweeping gaze out the windshield, if only to see his city, his home, one last time.

Then his hand shot out, and grabbed the steering wheel with a force that surprised even him. And he yanked it hard to the right, wrenching the car around and off the road. And he smiled, thinking one last time of Juliet's face.

And then…

Then, there was nothing more.

* * *

Shawn was in the car.

Henry was so furious and terrified he was shaking.

The blood. There was so much damned blood on the floor of the bank. Too much. He'd seen blood before. And he'd seen  _that_ much blood before. But every time he'd seen it…

It had been pooled beneath someone who's time had already long run out.

"You!" came Lassiter's shouted voice, shattering Henry's daze. Lassiter was leaning over a coughing Aaron and jabbing a finger at one of the S.W.A.T. men. "Get this man some medical attention!" After the man complied with the order, Lassiter got to his feet, fishing his keys out of his pocket. "Now, let's go get Shawn."

"I'm coming." said Henry firmly, with a glare that dared the man to argue with him.

Lassiter only gave a sharp nod and burst out of the side door, Juliet right at his side. Gus was still standing beside Henry, his eyes locked on the pool of blood still at the other end of the hallway. Henry grabbed his arm and yanked, pulling Gus forcefully along with him.

Henry sprinted behind the two detectives with a speed he didn't know he still had. Reaching Lassiter's Fusion, Lassiter swung his door open, but not before whirling around and pointing a finger at an EMT. "You! Get in the bus and drive behind us. We're going to need medical attention the minute we stop that car." A sharp nod from the EMT. Lassiter got into the driver's seat and the rest of them let themselves into the car. Henry barely had time to close the door before Lassiter floored the gas.

Crackling chatter was spewing directions through the radios on Juliet's and Lassiter's hips, IT managing to track the car's license plate through the street cameras. Henry gripped the door handle with white knuckles. His heart was hammering in his chest, each beat more painful than the last.

" _Even as a hostage, you have to listen to the crazy guy in charge_."

" _And if I don't?_ "

" _You don't want to find out_."

Henry shut his eyes. He'd told him how to handle this situation. He'd flat out  _told him_. That damned photographic memory of his should have burned it into his brain. And, Henry knew, it  _had_. He knew Shawn knew. The problem was that Shawn just didn't  _listen_. He  _never_  listened.

" _And if I don't_?"

Henry winced as Lassiter's sharp turn threw him into the door. They said that Shawn had  _attacked_  Heston. They had said Shawn was  _hidden_.

Henry's chest hurt.

He could have just stayed put. Just stayed hidden. He didn't have to do what he did. It was stupid. It was so damned  _stupid_.

But stupid as it was, Henry couldn't remember ever being more proud of his son.

"There!"

Henry whipped his head up at Juliet's shout. He searched the road for the car, expecting to see it speeding somewhere in front of him.

"Crap," hissed Lassiter, at the same time Henry watched Juliet press her hands to her mouth in horror.

And that's when he saw the car.

It had spun off the road and slammed into a tree. The engine was smoking.

" _Shawn_!" exclaimed Henry in a broken yell, launching himself out of the car before Lassiter could even manage to bring it to a full stop. He ran to the car. The passenger side was facing him, the driver's side having made the impact with the tree. Through the window, he could see a figure lying over the dashboard.

Shawn.

" _Shawn_!" he cried again, running the last few feet to the car and ripping the door open. Shawn had been thrown with the crash without a seat belt to hold him back. He was lying over the dashboard, face down. Blood coated his entire torso, dripped from his clothes over the car and his skin. Shattered glass had rained over him. But none of that was what stopped Henry's heart.

Shawn was so, painfully still.

A strangled sob forced its way out of Henry's chest. He reached for Shawn, grabbing his shoulder as gently as he could, and shook it.

Nothing.

His eyes burned and he grabbed Shawn's other shoulder, carefully pulling him away from the dashboard to lie back on the seat. Shawn's eyes were shut and his skin was terrifyingly pale. His head fell loosely to his shoulder. With trembling fingers, Henry pressed fingers to Shawn's neck.

Tears blurred his vision until he couldn't see.

"Son," he croaked out, readjusting his fingers, but there was nothing. " _Shawn_!"

Nothing.

"Henry!"

Lassiter's voice.

"He's-h-he's not-he can't be-" Henry couldn't even find the words. Another sob burst from his lips. He shook Shawn's frame. Shawn's chin fell to his chest. His son.  _His only son_. " _NO_!"

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pulling him forcefully away. Henry fought them until more hands were added and he reluctantly let them. Lassiter and Gus kept a hard grip on him as two EMTs rushed to the car. They carefully pulled Shawn out of the seat on onto the ground. He still wasn't moving.

_He still wasn't moving._

"Driver?" one of them asked without looking away from Shawn.

"Unconscious, stable." the other answered, then kneeled by Shawn on his other side.

The words meant nothing to Henry.

Because Shawn was on the ground.

Not moving.

Not breathing.

Heart not beating.

"No pulse," said the one to the other. A strangled, choked sound. Juliet. Lassiter had to release Henry to catch her as she fell to her knees.

Defibulators.

"Clear."

Henry's own chest seized as Shawn's body jolted.

"Clear."

Shawn didn't move. He was still.

He was so damned  _still_.

A hand tightened on his arm. Gus. Something hot and wet struck his shoulder. Gus. Gus was crying.

"Clear."

Another jolt.

And then, the most beautiful sound he ever heard.

Shawn gasped.

Henry ripped out of Gus' loose grasp, and fell to his knees at Shawn's side. Shawn was gasping and coughing, his chest rising and falling with a dangerous speed. Henry reached for his face. "Shawn! Shawn-thank god-" Shawn blinked slowly, but it was clear he wasn't really with them. Nothing registered in his eyes. He shut them again. His head fell to the side. Fear shot an icy line down Henry's spine. "Shawn! Kid, please-"

One of the EMTs came back with a stretcher. The two men lifted him and Henry stumbled back to his feet. "Is-is he okay?"

"He's breathing, for now," one EMT said, carrying him to the waiting ambulance. "He needs a hospital. Please, stay back." They loaded him into the vehicle.

"I'm going with him," Henry choked out. "I'm his father."

A nod, and Henry pulled himself into the ambulance.

"We'll drive behind you," said Lassiter emptily, and Henry couldn't remember ever seeing the detective look that terrified before.

He'd hardly seen anyone look that terrified before.

The doors to the ambulance shut and the sirens blared as it sped through traffic. Henry lowered his gaze to Shawn's face, where there was now an oxygen mask. Henry grabbed Shawn's limp hand and squeezed it. Hard.

One of the EMTs, a young man, was hooking Shawn up to a heart monitor. The beat was slow, unsteady. The gaps between the beats were too wide. Henry's own heart caught in his throat.

"Shawn," he choked out. Tears fell freely down his face but he didn't care. "Please, kid. Don't. Don't leave me." Tears burned hotter. "Stay with me. Please, kid."

" _And if I don't_?"

Henry squeezed Shawn's hand harder.

God, that… that was something Henry never wanted to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

He died.

Gus wrung his hands together, breathing a hollow breath out.

Shawn was dead.

His hands were shaking. He shut his eyes.

 _Shawn had died_.

Gus shook himself, sitting up, tearing his gaze from the floor of the hospital ICU waiting room. He'd been sitting here for nearly two hours now. But his mind was still two hours behind, still stuck on that moment that refused to stop replaying in his mind. When Shawn was pulled out of the wrecked car, lying on the ground. Not  _just_  motionless. Not  _just_  unconscious. He had been dead.

Shawn had been  _dead_.

The words kept screaming in his head. His best friend since forever, the one he spent half his week trying to avoid, and the other half working overtime to support, had stopped  _living_. For minutes.

 _Minutes_.

Something burned and Gus felt a splash of something wet strike his hand. He was crying. Again. He'd been crying for nearly the entire past two hours. And even for him, that was too much.

Shawn was alive when they took him into surgery. That's what Henry had said when he joined them in the waiting room. After that, not one of them had spoken in the past two hours. There was still no word on Shawn's condition. Just that he was "still in surgery".

Gus lifted his head, finding Henry sitting in the chair nearest to the door. Any time that door opened and a doctor came through, Henry would jolt in his seat, only for it to be for someone else and the older man's eyes would darken and his posture weaken just a little bit more.

There was blood on Henry's clothes. Shawn's blood. Gus found himself staring at it, flashing back.  _Blood on the floor, leaving a streaked trail down the hallway_ …

Gus squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face with trembling hands.

 _He had been dead_.

If Gus had just sucked it up and took the check to their bank like he always did, Shawn wouldn't have been in that bank when he was. He wouldn't have gotten shot. He wouldn't have been bleeding out.

He wouldn't have been dead for more than a minute.

What if they were too late? What if they didn't find him in time? What if Shawn had actually…

Gus opened his eyes. He couldn't keep doing this. He looked back toward the door to the surgical ward. No one has come through it in a while. He looked over in the nearly-empty waiting room. Juliet was sitting in the the corner of the row against the wall, the same row he was in. She'd drawn her knees to her chest and had her eyes locked on the door to the surgical ward. She didn't look like the fierce cop that Gus had grown to know her as. She just looked like a scared kid. Just like he felt.

"Anything?"

They all jumped at the voice, but each slumped a little at seeing Lassiter walk in through the other door. Lassiter seemed to notice their collective reaction, and his face turned grim. "Oh," was all he said. He lifted his hands, where he was carrying a tray of four steaming coffees. "I brought coffee."

No one moved. Gus leaned back in his own chair. A hot, comforting beverage just seemed wrong. Shawn had been suffering for hours. Sitting here, drinking a cup of coffee and waiting to see if his friend lived or died just didn't seem… right.

After a moment, Juliet untangled herself and got up, probably just for Lassiter's sake. She took a cup from the tray and sat back down in her seat. She held it between her hands but her eyes went straight back to the door and she didn't bother to take a sip.

With a sigh, Lassiter placed the tray on one of the tables and took a seat beside Juliet. The room fell silent again until Lassiter spoke. "I don't know if I would have done it."

Everyone looked at him. Gus' eyebrows kneaded. "What?"

Lassiter didn't meet any of their eyes. "What he did." he clarified. He nodded slightly toward the surgical ward. "Spencer. Tackling the guy. Everything he did." He fidgeted a little. "This is what I  _do_. But that was… stupid. And risky. And..." He bit his lip. "And I don't know if I would have done it."

No one spoke.

It was Juliet that broke the silence. "Me, either."

Gus breathed out a breath. He knew for certain  _he_  wouldn't have done it. Hell,  _he_  had been a hostage in a bank before. He had been terrified. The last thing he would have done was even so much as  _speak_  around that hostage taker. He'd never actually  _attack_  the guy! Doing so was stupid. It was reckless. It was senseless and…

And the most selfless thing Gus had ever seen.

And here were two incredible cops, admitting that they honestly didn't even know if they could have done the same.

Because doing what Shawn did… you had to know, in the back of your mind and deep in your heart, that there was an incredibly high chance that even if it saved everyone else, you were going to die in the process. And you had to be okay with that.

Another hot tear fell.

Gus had never been more proud to call Shawn his friend.

It was then when the door to the surgical ward opened. Every head whipped toward it, and Gus was stumbling to his feet at the same time everyone else did.

Aaron pushed through the doors, peeling off gloves and pulling his face mask down below his chin.

It had been a surprising, wonderful relief to Gus when they first reached the hospital and they were told that Aaron would be operating on Shawn. After Aaron had been looked over by the paramedics and given a full, clean bill of health, he had them take him straight to the hospital to prepare. Gus had his full confidence in the man; after everything that happened today, there was no doctor in the world with more motivation to save Shawn's life than Aaron.

Gus' heart was beating in his throat.  _This was it. Either Shawn was alive or he was dead._

Aaron gave them all an exhausted smile. "He pulled through."

Gus shut his eyes as a waterfall of relief washed through his system.  _He pulled through_. He was alive. The pure relief he felt was so overpowering Gus nearly sank back to his chair.

His best friend was going to be  _okay._

"Thank god," breathed Henry, putting a shaking hand to the wall.

"He's okay?" asked Juliet breathlessly.

"Very weak, but yes, okay," said Aaron with a tired smile. "Paramedics got to him just in time. They brought him back quickly enough after his heart stopped to avoid damage to his brain and major organs. He was in a stage four hypovolemic shock when we brought him him in." Aaron looked to his clipboard, shaking his head to himself, then looked back up at them. "Honestly, it's a miracle that he's even alive."

Gus' chest hurt. He suddenly realized he was holding his breath. Flashing back to that moment, his best friend, lying on the ground, unmoving, not breathing, not…

Gus shook himself.

He was fine.

Shawn was going to be  _fine_.

Aaron let out a sigh and dragged his eyes back up. "His blood pressure is still a little under what it should be, so I want him to stay in the ICU for a few more hours just as a precaution, and to make sure he doesn't suffer any infections. He'll be moved down to a room of his own once we feel confident he's ready."

"How long will he have to stay here?" asked Henry, face still drawn and white.

"A few days, at the very least," said Aaron. "Recovery will take several weeks. He is going to be fine though, over time." Aaron added when the silence only deepened. He cleared his throat, then winced and rubbed his chest slightly with a grimace. Gus internally winced at that. That's where Aaron must have been shot.

"And you?" asked Juliet suddenly, making Aaron lift his head. "How are you doing through all of this?"

"Me?" Aaron shrugged. "Got a nasty bruise on my chest and I'm sure a few other places, but other than that I'm relatively fine." Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. "But as for the rest of it, uh… well, I haven't quite… processed it yet. It all seems just a little… surreal." He let out a breath. "I was terrified. Damn terrified. But…" His head tilted toward the doors to the surgical ward. "I think being terrified for  _Shawn_  took it off of me in there." He gave Juliet half a smile. "I'll be fine. I'm sure I'm due for a couple of sleepless nights, but… Shawn's going to be okay. That's all I really care about right now."

Aaron slipped the board under his arm. "Shawn's the strongest, bravest man I've ever met. I can't imagine the heroism he must show as a detective every day."

Everyone shared a glance, but collectively decided to let it go.

Henry huffed out a short breath and stood, placing a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Thank you. For… for everything. I know he wouldn't even be…" Henry swallowed hard. "He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. You looked after him today and you saved him." Henry swallowed hard. "I owe you."

Aaron shook his head. "Henry-it's the other way around. If it wasn't for  _Shawn_ , I'd be the last hostage in that bank. And I'd have been the one in the car with a bullet in my chest. If anyone owes anyone anything, it's  _me_."

Without really thinking about it, Gus walked straight up to Aaron and grabbed him in a crushing hug. Awkwardly, Aaron hugged him back, and Gus whispered, "Thank you." Ever since seeing Aaron through that window at the bank, knowing that Shawn had someone with him there, someone who cared about him and was there for him, he felt an immense relief. Knowing Shawn wasn't alone was a relief all on its own, especially because Gus couldn't be there, right next to Shawn. His best friend needed him and he was stuck on the sidelines, forced to wait while Shawn suffered. But thanks to Aaron Shawn  _did_  have a friend in there, and Gus owed that man for it.

A tap on his shoulder made Gus open his eyes.

"Guster, let him go, he can't breathe."

"Oh." With an embarrassed smile, Gus released Aaron and stumbled back. Aaron just smiled at him.

"No need to thank me." Aaron told him. "Shawn's alive. That's all the thanks I'll ever need."

"Can we see him?" asked Henry.

"One at a time." said Aaron, slipping the clipboard under his arm. "He'll be in the ICU for the next few hours or so, just to get his blood pressure up a bit more, but he's relatively stable. We'll bring him downstairs to a room afterward and you can all stay with him." Aaron rubbed his eyes. "And then I'll be headed home to sleep. Today was… eventful."

Gus almost snorted. Understatement of the century.

* * *

_1983_

_Gus made his way into the science classroom, keeping his head down and holding his books close to his chest. School was never fun for him, and the third grade was no different. Ever since preschool, he'd been the target of jokes and bullies and hadn't made a friend since, well, ever. But he's learned to make his peace with that, and only focused on trying to make it to the end of the day, learning as much as he could, getting good marks and making it home without being thrown into a locker. The last time that happened he ripped his favorite dress pants on the hinges. Now he was wearing his old khaki pair that were a little too tight but he'd never be seen in jeans._

_Gus started toward his table in the back of the room, where his science partner was already sitting. Gus let out a long breath. He itched at the too-tight pants and steeled himself as he walked over._

_His given science partner was Shawn Spencer. The kid was… different. Half the time he was the class clown, able to get the entire class to laugh at his antics, and the other half of the time he was locked into the locker next to Gus. Shawn Spencer spent most of his time in the principal's office, and he wasn't someone to hang around. Everyone knew that much._

_Gus wasn't sure what to make of the kid. They'd been science partners for the past few weeks now, working together on their chemistry project every day. What annoyed Gus the most was that today was the day of presentations and they were both going to get a shared, equal grade, even though Gus was the one who did almost all the work. All Shawn did was make jokes and try putting the wrong ingredients together. Just yesterday when Shawn tried messing around with the beakers again, Gus spoke to him for the first time, telling him to drop what he was holding because that's how you start fires._

_Gus didn't really know what to say when that only made Shawn grin._

_Even though Gus had been counting down the days until he got a new science partner, Gus liked science. He liked it so much that he could see himself doing it when he was all grown up. So, it didn't really bother him that Shawn had more or less left him to do the work._

_Gus put his books down on his desk and eyed the beakers of liquids and powders they left set up from yesterday. His fingers shook a little; he was afraid of public speaking. Hopefully that wouldn't ruin his grade. He looked over at Shawn, who was playing with a paper airplane under the desk. Gus rolled his eyes. Looked like he would have to do all the talking, too._

_Their teacher started talking, inviting up the first kids to the front of the class to demonstrate their project in front of everyone. Gus let out another shaky breath and sat down. And then…_

_Ice ran down Gus' spine._

_Because just as he bent down over the seat, he felt the distinct and horrible sensation of his too-tight pants, ripping at the seams._

" _Oh, no," he gasped under his breath, sitting down immediately and whipping his head around in case anyone else saw. His heart pounded in his chest. Thankful that the back of their chairs were solid and no one would see, Gus reached back and his fingers found a huge split in the fabric. He tore his hand away and clasped them in his lap, feeling his breathing hitch. Not today. This couldn't be happening today. Today was the presentation, today was the day he was going to have to walk in front of everyone in the class and now they'd see… they'd all see. And they'd laugh and laugh and getting stuck in a locker until his mom came to pick him up would be the least of his worries. If he was caught like this he'd never live it down. He'd never make any friends._

" _Hey… Burt," said a voice off to his right, and Gus whipped his head over. Shawn was staring at him quizzically, ignoring the presentation going on in the front of the room. "You're acting all weird. All… suspicious. Like you're hiding something. Or you killed someone. Or you're hiding the fact that you killed someone."_

_Gus tried to slow his breathing. "I… um, I'm…" He couldn't speak._

_Shawn did something then, something weird. He squinted a little, looking Gus up and down in the matter of a split second. Gus shrunk into his chair, uncomfortable under the boy's surprisingly bright and sharp gaze. Then Shawn's eyes stopped at Gus' pants. Shawn leaned over a little, and then his eyes widened. He quickly threw a hand over his mouth to stop a giggle from escaping. "Oh, my god, dude, you just spl-"_

" _Shh!" whispered Gus quickly, a blush rushing to his cheeks._

" _Aw, man, dude," said Shawn, thankfully not laughing but he hadn't stopped grinning, either. "And on presentation day and everything. Too bad we're not studying the cycles of the moon, you'd be all set."_

_Gus' cheeks blushed even more. "I'm wearing underpants!"_

" _That's still rough, man," said Shawn, shaking his head and smiling._

_Gus suddenly sniffed. Tears were stinging his eyes. "I can't go up there," he whispered, shaking his head and putting his hands over his eyes. "They'll never forget it!"_

_Gus heard Shawn let out a long breath, and then say, "How fast can you run?"_

_Gus picked his head up. "What?"_

_Shawn's smile had disappeared. He was studying the beakers on the table. And then the distance to the door. He looked back at Gus. "You got a change of clothes here?"_

" _In my gym locker," said Gus quietly. "But I can't even ask to go to the bathroom to get them. When I get up they'll all see-"_

" _I know." Shawn squinted at the beakers again. Gus wondered why he did that. "Okay," Shawn looked back at Gus. "We don't have a lot of time, Burt. On a count of five, I'm gonna do something. And then you're gonna run out the door, get your change of clothes, and no one will know."_

" _But, how-"_

" _Mr. Spencer? Mr. Guster?"_

_Both Shawn and Gus looked up. Their teacher, and half the class, was staring at them. Gus shrunk further into his chair and said, "Yes, ma'am?"_

" _Can you both come down to the front of the room? It's time for your presentation."_

_Fear shot through Gus' entire body._

" _Now!" hissed Shawn under his breath, and Gus whipped his head toward him in confusion. Just then, Shawn stood up, holding a beaker in each hand, and Gus knew what he was about to do even as Shawn yelled, "Hey everyone! Watch this!" He poured both substances into a third beaker, which created a small explosion, erupting into a small fireball on the desk. Half the class started screaming, their teacher was yelling, the other half of the class was cheering and Gus barely remembered to take the distraction to get the heck out of the classroom._

_Just as he reached the door, he looked back at his science partner, whose eyes found his. The triumphant smile faded form his face and Shawn gave Gus a serious nod, and gestured with his hand to "Go."_

_Gus let out a breath and ran down the hall to the gym locker room for his change of pants. But he couldn't help the small smile from slipping onto his face._

_Because he was pretty sure he just made his first friend._

_-.-._

Gus let out a breath. "Shawn?"

Gus was sitting in a plastic chair beside Shawn's bed in the ICU. Shawn was lying under the thin blankets, an oxygen mask over his face and tubes running into his arm, and machines beeped calmly in the silence. He made no attempt to reply, nor any sign that he even heard Gus. Gus' eyebrows kneaded.

Shawn looked so breakable it was terrifying.

He couldn't help remembering seeing Shawn on the ground after the car crashed. Drained of color. Henry, tearing at the seams. Seeing Henry Spencer fall apart was one of the worst things Gus had ever seen. And Shawn…

Gus steadied himself, gripping the handrail of the bed. He blinked rapidly. "Calm down," he whispered to himself. "Shawn's here. Right here. He's fine."

And he was. Cuts, scrapes and bruises littered Shawn's face and arms. Most likely from the shattered glass when the car crashed. A longer gash under his hairline had stitches, something the doctor assumed was also caused by the broken glass. They had to shave back a little hair to treat it and Gus cringed at the thought of what Shawn's reaction to that will be. His face was still too pale. Shawn's eyes were closed and his chest only rose and fell slowly, stuttering every few breaths.

But he was alive.

Gus kept reflexively watching Shawn's chest, tuning into the hypnotic beat of Shawn's heart through the monitor as proof. Proof that he was here, he was okay. Weak, hurt, but  _okay_.

Shawn's face twitched the smallest bit with every breath, as if it hurt. Remembering that Aaron said something in passing about a broken rib, Gus reached for Shawn's hand in sympathy, squeezing it.

He almost died.

Gus rubbed a hand over his face.  _No, he_ did  _die_.

And he did it all to save strangers. Complete, utter  _strangers_. Not caring at all what happened to him.

Gus thought about the day he and Shawn became friends. Gus smiled a little, remembering the day clearly. Shawn saved his ass that day, without even knowing his  _name_. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. No one had even ever  _noticed_ Gus before. No one.

Shawn had been suspended for two days for starting that fire. Later, Shawn told him that Henry grounded him for it, confining him to his room, and something about a "hodge-podge" situation, but Gus still had no idea what that meant. But Shawn had done that for  _him_. Suffered two punishments… for  _him_. Never even once tried to plead his case to their principal or his own father. Almost as if Shawn thought he was…

 _Worth_  it.

And soon after that, Shawn and Gus became practically inseparable. Shawn became his best friend. Something Gus had never had before, and quickly learned that Shawn had never had before, either. Gus' parents spent most of his life asking him why he still hung out with Shawn. Why he stuck by him over all these years. Why Gus wanted to be friends with the "idiot."

Gus watched Shawn breathe, eyeing the bruises, and the tired lines drawn into his face. Gus gave his friend the ghost of a smile. "This is why."

No one knew the real Shawn Spencer. No one except him. Not even Shawn's own father. Henry still saw the  _antics_  and the  _stunts_  over the man that Gus saw when he looked at Shawn. Gus saw the loyal, committed, selfless man. The one who would do anything for the people he cared about. And, Gus thought as he squeezed Shawn's hand again, the people he didn't even  _know_.

"Thanks," said Gus quietly. Gus smiled again, feeling tears come for whatever reason but he pushed them back. His best friend was a hero, and now everyone else could finally see it, too.

* * *

It took another five hours Shawn to be moved to a normal room.

Five hours of Gus, Juliet and Henry taking shifts sitting with Shawn. Lassiter had declared that someone should "man the waiting room," and no one bothered to disagree. The simple statement from the doctor that Shawn was ready for a normal room was more relieving than Gus thought it would be. It meant Shawn was getting better. And that he was going to be just fine. An unfamiliar doctor had come out to tell them about the room change; evidently Aaron had gone home to sleep like he told them earlier. Gus stood up from his uncomfortable seat-it had been Henry's shift just now-and checked his watch.

5:27.

Gus rubbed his eyes. He'd been awake all night. None of them had slept a wink. Gus could see though, by Henry's face, Lassiter's posture and the way Juliet uncurled herself that they were all just as exhausted as he was.

They all made their way to the elevator and rode it in silence down to the second floor. They said it would take a few minutes to get Shawn out of the ICU and down to his room so they made their way to the public waiting room. As they neared it, a chorus of hushed conversations carried through the room and into the hallway. Gus rubbed his eyes again.

"Any news? Is he still in the ICU?"

Gus and everyone else lifted their heads at the voice. Karen Vick met their small group in the hallway. She was still dressed in her pantsuit, but the jacket was missing and tired lines drew around her eyes as well.

"He's being moved to a room," said Henry, stopping in front of her. He gave her a tired smile. "Thank you for staying, Karen. It means a lot."

The Chief's eyes crinkled sadly. "I wouldn't rather be anywhere else. I'm glad he's okay."

They made their way slowly and tiredly into the waiting room, which was filled with so much hushed chatter that it made Gus look up. As they entered, he looked around for an empty chair to collapse into but every single chair was filled. In fact, there were dozens of people standing, leaning against walls, and sitting on the floor. Gus stopped dead, his jaw dropping.

"Oh, my god," said Juliet from over his shoulder. She looked at the Chief. "W-What happened? Was there… did something happen?"

"There was a gang attack and I missed it?" chimed in Lassiter.

"No, no," said Vick quickly, putting a hand on Lassiter's chest as he-for whatever reason-reached for his gun. "Nothing happened. No attacks. The city is safe."

Lassiter relaxed somewhat, but Gus couldn't help staring at the crowd of people. Henry gave her a look. "Karen, what are all these people doing here?"

But the Chief only smiled. "All these people are here for Shawn."

Gus's eyebrows shot up. He glanced at the-what must have been at least a hundred-people in the waiting room. Some of them were looking at their small group. When he made eye contact with one woman, she gave him a kind smile. He turned a confused expression toward the Chief. "They're here… for Shawn?"

Vick nodded. "Most of them are the people who had been held hostage in the bank, and their families." She smiled again. "They've been here all night."

Gus looked back at the people. His eyes suddenly stung with tears. Two of them were injured; one man with his arm in a sling, sitting on the far wall talking to a young woman, while a toddler sat on his lap, drawing on his cast. The other, a teenage girl, sitting in a wheelchair between her parents, her leg casted and elevated. Her head was resting on her father's shoulder and she was talking quietly with her mother. Gus felt tears fall over his cheeks and he smiled, his first true smile all day. All these people, here because of Shawn.  _Alive_ , with their families, smiling and here because of  _Shawn_. And now they were here  _for_  him.

Gus felt something tug on his pants and he hastily wiped his tears and looked down. A small boy was looking innocently up at him. Gus recognized him; it was the little boy he'd seen on the injured man's lap. Gus bent down to his level. "Hey there, little man," he said.

"Are you friends with Superman?" the boy asked brightly.

Gus quirked an eyebrow slightly at that, but a voice suddenly spoke up above him. "Alex…" A gentle hand pulled the boy slightly away from Gus. "I'm sorry about that," said a man's voice. "He wanders…"

"It's perfectly okay," said Gus, standing up.

The man with the sling was standing in front of him. He extended his good hand. "John," he said.

"Burton Guster," said Gus, shaking it.

"I take it you all are Mr. Spencer's family?"

Damn well close enough. "Yes, we are."

John smiled. "We were so glad to hear he pulled through. I'm looking forward to thanking him in person." He shook his head a little to himself. "That was one incredible thing he did today. I owe my life to him. I'm sure a lot of us do."

"Is he?" asked the little boy- _Alex_ -tugging on John's pants, now. "Is he friends with 'im? Is he friends w'th Superman?"

John chuckled a little, then looked sheepishly at Gus. He gestured with his head back where his wife was watching them with a smile on her face. "My wife and son were waiting in the car when the bank was…" He swallowed. "Well, when we were rescued," he went on, "Alex asked my wife who saved me. She told him 'Superman' did."

Gus felt his heart dissolve in his chest.

Juliet let out a light gasp at that. Gus turned to see her eyes sparkle with tears. Gus turned back to Alex and bent back down. "I sure am friends with him," said Gus with a smile. "In fact, I'm  _best_  friends with him."

Alex looked at him in awe. "He saved Daddy!"

Warmth spread through Gus' chest. He lightly took the little boy's shoulder. "He sure did. And I know that when he wakes up, he's really gonna want to meet you."

The boy's eyes lit up the entire building.

After that, dozens of more people met him, Henry, Juliet and Lassiter in the hallway, swapping thanks and stories and gratitude. And Gus cried again. And he knew Shawn would have made fun of him for it.

And Gus was perfectly okay with that.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

_"Y-You got what you… what you want," said Shawn hollowly. "You don't have t-to kill us."_

_Heston leaned down, but kept his gun trained on Aaron. "And I'm not gonna. I don't trust those cops. You say they got them trackers in their cars? I'm not riskin' that. So, I'm taking you with me. Having a hostage with me will keep them where they belong if they catch up ta me."_

_Shawn's eyes widened. "Wait, b-but-"_

_"No!" exclaimed Aaron, even as Heston slung his free arm around Shawn's torso. With surprising strength, he lifted Shawn to his own chest. Shawn cried out as it pulled at his abdomen, and pain blackened his vision for a terrifying second._

_"Shawn!"_

_"Now, walk!" demanded Heston, and Shawn blearily saw that Heston was nudging Aaron with the gun to his back. Reluctantly, Aaron walked toward the door. Through the small window of the side door, they could easily see the empty area and the lone car sitting feet from the door. Once they reached the door, Aaron stopped and turned._

_"What now?" asked Aaron._

_"Now?" Heston asked, a smile in his voice. Shawn's heart tripled in speed. Not good. Not good at all. He raised the gun toward Aaron's chest. "You're suddenly irrelevant."_

_Fear skyrocketed in Shawn's veins. "No, no, no! Don't! Please, don't-" But Heston ignored him. He cocked the gun, and Aaron's eyes widened with terror._

_"No!" screamed Shawn._

_Aaron closed his eyes._

_And Heston fired._

_The bullet struck Aaron in the chest. The force of it knocked Aaron against the wall, a hole in his shirt, directly over his heart. He fell to the ground and laid still. He didn't get up._

_Shawn gaped at him, tears burning his eyes, spilling over his cheeks. He couldn't speak. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Not even as Heston yanked the door open and dragged him outside. Not even as pain seized him, burning him from the inside. Actually, the pain in his waist suddenly intensified, hot as a molten poker beneath his skin._

Burning.

Pain.

So, so much pain.

"...so, I just wanted to say… thanks."

Aaron. He was dead. Gone. And it was his  _fault_. At the mere thought of the man, the pain was quickly and steadily worse. Pain was everywhere. But Aaron was gone, and there was nothing Shawn could have done. He failed.

"...been two days, and your friends are still beside themselves- Shawn?"

Beeping. Something was beeping, loud and fast. And getting louder. The cold grip of his nightmare was loosening and he was rising from beneath the depths of unconsciousness. _It's a dream. I'm dreaming._  Confusion replaced the fear and the grief. But the pain quickly outweighed everything. It was worse in his abdomen but pounding deep in his head, and seeming to spread to every fiber of his being. He groaned.

"Hey… hey, easy, Shawn…"

A voice.

He knew that voice.

But… if it was… that… that could only mean…

A new type of fear settled into his gut, strong enough to force his eyes to crack open. White light blinded him. He winced and his head pounded even more. The pain from the light nearly whited out his senses and almost sent him back under the surface of reality again. He fought to keep himself above it, forcing his eyes open again. He had to know.

A white-walled room. He was lying on something- something soft. Though it was hard to tell any feeling outside of the pain. His chest was hurting and he breathed shallowly.

"Hey… you're okay, just breathe…"

That voice. More fear laced his veins. Shawn took a breath, barely able to convince himself to turn his head. But he had to know.

He turned his head.

His blurry vision slowly pieced together the image of someone beside him. And the moment it cleared, Shawn's blood ran cold and the pain was forgotten and replaced with pure shock.

_Aaron_.

Shawn blinked slowly, but Aaron was still there. Staring at him, looking tired yet relieved. Shawn just stared at him, hardly realizing what he was seeing. Hardly  _accepting_  it.

Aaron's brows shifted at Shawn's expression. "I guess you… remember what happened, then?"

"I'm sorry," said Shawn, the croaked words barely above a whisper.

Aaron sighed, attempting a smile. "Don't worry about it. You're okay, now, Shawn."

Shawn just stared back. Heat burned behind his eyes as he realized what Aaron meant. Shawn swallowed hard, painfully. "So… I'm…" He choked on the word and swallowed again. More heat burned his eyes. "I'm…  _dead_?"

To say Aaron was shocked at his words was an understatement. His brows shot up to his hairline and he recoiled back a few inches. He stared at Shawn in pure confusion. "Shawn… what are you- of course not! You're going to be just fine, why-"

Shawn just stared back at him. He blinked heavily, trying to collect enough strength to carry on the conversation. "But he killed you." he rasped almost inaudibly. "You died," he said, his voice cracking the slightest bit. "I watched him…" He shook his head, then grimaced as pain sliced through his head. He breathed hard, feeling Aaron grab his arm. "If you're here then that means that… that I… that  _we_ -"

Aaron's jaw dropped slightly and he looked almost speechless as the puzzle pieces fell together. "You saw him shoot me and you…" It clicked in the doctor's head and pity deepened in his eyes. "All that time, you thought I was…" He ran a hand through his hair. "God, that's awful, that's-" He fought for words, his demeanor quickly changing at the stricken look in Shawn's eyes. "Shawn," said Aaron quick and firm. He was standing now, right in Shawn's line of sight. "I'm not dead. I swear. I'm one hundred percent alive, and you are, too. Detective Lassiter gave me a bulletproof vest before I came back to help you in the bank, the bullet _never hit me_. Not even a graze. You saw me fall unconscious not… not... dead. I'm fine. Thanks to  _you_ , I'm fine."

Hope flared within him. The panic began to settle. "You… you are?" he whispered.

Aaron smiled then, nodding. "Yes, just fine. This is real. You're real. You're fine." Aaron let out a humorless laugh, saying, "Couldn't have cut it any closer, but you're still in the land of the living. You've been here for two days and we just pulled you off the heavier medication, which is probably what woke you up."

Shawn broke eye contact, letting his eyes fall closed, his lids feeling heavy and beyond exhausted. He let a small smile tilt his lips in pure relief. "Thank god," he said, though he wasn't even sure if he said the words loud enough to hear them. He blinked his eyes open again, looking back to Aaron and taking in the white lab coat and scrubs underneath. The tiredness in his eyes. "You… you saved me?"

Aaron just sat back a little in his chair and smiled slightly. "Just returning the favor."

Shawn nodded slightly, then stopped as pain flashed behind his eyes. He raised the palm of his hand to his temple and tried to hold in a groan.

_It was getting colder._

_Shawn blinked slowly, watching the buildings slip in and out of his vision through the car window. The sun was still high in the sky. It didn't look cold out there. But he quickly realized that the cold he was suddenly feeling wasn't from outside. It was inside._

_He was getting colder._

Shawn blinked, sharply shaking his head despite the agony that flashed across his vision. The memory was so clear and vivid and real. Not for the first time, he truly wished he didn't have such a perfect memory. The pain, the fear, the cold. He could still feel it. He briefly looked down. His hands were shaking. He grabbed fistfuls of the blanket to try to stop them.

Shawn suddenly winced as pain ebbed behind his eyes again. He shut them, trying to erase the pain from his features, sinking back into the pillows and mattress.

"Wait, Shawn, don't fall asleep just yet," said Aaron quickly. "Your dad will kill me if he doesn't have the chance to talk to you now that you're awake. He's been glued to this chair for two days until I sent him and your other friends home a little while ago to get some real food and a damn change of clothes."

The rush of adrenaline wearing off, Shawn winced as the pain began to flare up again. He opened his eyes again, fighting the exhaustion. "Sure, doc," said Shawn weakly, blinking blearily. He briefly scanned the room, eyes widening a little at the sight of it. Tables had been brought in and stood around the walls of the room, each covered with towering baskets of food and get well cards and flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. There must have been over a hundred.

Aaron must have caught what he was looking at. "You've got quite a fan club out there," he said.

Shawn blinked heavily again, trying to stay awake. It was surprisingly hard. He pulled his gaze away from the baskets. "I do?"

"Well, you don't take down a crazy gunman and save thirty innocent lives while risking your own without gaining  _some_  sort of hero status," Aaron said.

Shawn looked back at the baskets. Cards of all sizes and colors. Most of them were handwritten. A few had drawings on them, looking like children made them. One of them had a rough drawing of Superman, it looked like. And there were a surprising amount of pineapples among the lot.

_Hero_.

"I don't think you're getting out of here without signing some autographs," said Aaron jokingly.

Shawn looked back at him. "There's people here?" he asked.

Aaron got up and checked a few things on the monitor beside Shawn's head. "Not as many as a few days ago, but while you were in surgery there were several dozen in the waiting room. It was… well, I've worked here for a long time and I've never seen anything quite as heartwarming as that."

Shawn shut his eyes briefly, feeling a tightness spread to his muscles. That was a lot of attention.

"Well," Shawn said, clearing his throat as his voice cut out. "Keep some guards at the door, will ya?"

Obviously taking it as a joke, Aaron laughed. "Will do." He jotted something down on a clipboard that he picked up. "You're doing well, Shawn. Incredibly well, actually. Considering how…" Aaron shook his head to himself. "Nevermind."

Too tired to read the clues on what he wasn't saying, Shawn just blinked heavily and asked, "When can I get outta here, doc?"

"Not for a couple of days," said Aaron, and Shawn let out an irritated sigh. "Don't like hospitals, do you?"

"Not even a little."

"Well," said Aaron, hanging the clipboard on the end of the bed rail. "You're body went through a lot. You lost... " Aaron shook his head. "You lost a lot of blood. Three transfusions to get you functioning properly again. It was certainly one of the longest nights I've ever had." Aaron sighed and fixed his glasses. "You're going to feel weaker than normal for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month. You might feel heavier for a while, but just give it some time for your body to get strong again. The bullet broke two of your ribs, which is what's going to cause you the most pain…" At Shawn's grimace, Aaron winced in sympathy. "...which you've already probably figured out. You've got a slight concussion, but your memory seems to be working fine. Or…" The same dark look reflected from Shawn's eyes into Aaron's. "Maybe a little…  _too_  well, huh?"

Shawn shrugged, then winced as it jostled his ribs. His memory had been replaying several of the events from the bank throughout the entire conversation. In complete, perfect, horrendous detail. "You have no idea."

"All right," said Aaron, grabbing a phone from the wall. "I should call your dad and-"

"Wait," said Shawn quickly. Aaron hesitated, phone in hand. "Just… give me a few minutes before you do… please?"

Aaron just gave him a curious look. It shifted into sympathy and he put the phone back on the console. "Sure. Just don't you dare fall asleep."

Shawn gave him half a grin. "No promises, doc."

Aaron grinned back and shook his head to himself, turning around and leaving the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

Shawn let out a breath, letting his head fall to the pillow. He shut his eyes, not bothering to hide the pain-filled grimace from his features. His hand travelled to his waist. He could feel bandages wrapped around his waist beneath the thin hospital wear. Pain radiated from it. He knew the only alternative to the pain was the heavy morphine but he didn't want his brain scrambled right now. In his experience, morphine and a traumatic experience didn't always work out. Most of the time it brought the nightmare to life, right before his eyes. He didn't need that right now.

His mind was doing that just fine on its own.

Shawn breathed slowly through his nose. It was over. The whole ordeal was over. He was fine, Aaron was fine, it was done. And the quicker he forgot about it, the quicker things could get back to the way they were.

Unfortunately for Aaron, Shawn fell asleep not too long after that.

* * *

The next thing he knew, he was waking to the sound of something crinkling. Crinkling, followed by a heavy, deep seated sigh. Someone was beside him.

Pain came quicker than the memories, and Shawn winced as he shifted a bit, and sharp agony laced throughout his abdomen. His hand reflexively reached out to cover it and he groaned through his teeth.

A hand was suddenly over his and he flinched a little, jerking back and his eyes flew open.

"...Dad?" whispered Shawn, his voice hoarse and broken. He cleared it a little, taking in the blurry hospital room.  _Oh_ , he thought, memories descending quickly. Bank. Hospital. Aaron.

Right.

Henry had flung a newspaper to the side haphazardly and was on his feet, standing over him. Shawn blinked a few times to try to clear the image. When it did, he braced himself for the glare and the lecture that was bound to come. But it wasn't at all what he expected.

Henry didn't seem angry. Or even irritated at all. In fact, it was almost as if… as if…

"Dad," Shawn tried again, studying his father's face.  _It couldn't be_ … "Are you…  _crying_?"

A single tear was running down his father's cheek. Henry didn't even bother to wipe it away. He just stared at Shawn, his hand over Shawn's own, his eyes looking exhausted and… concerned. Very concerned. He looked speechless. Not once in his life had Shawn ever seen his father as broken up as he was now. Discomfort welled up in Shawn's chest and he gave Henry a look, asking, "Jeez… who died?"

It was an attempt at a joke, but Henry didn't take it as one. If anything, it seemed to stun the man. His eyes suddenly clouded dark and pained and his hand on Shawn's tightened, holding Shawn's wrist almost hard enough to hurt. Shawn coughed an incredibly forced laugh despite the pain it brought to his ribs and he tried, "Dad…? What's-" But before he could finish, Henry did something… unthinkable. Something Shawn couldn't have prepared himself for if he had tried.

Henry  _hugged_  him.

"Agh-!" Shawn sucked in a sharp breath as Henry leaned over, gently pulling Shawn to his chest. Arms around his shoulders, the whole shebang. Shawn's eyes widened, half from the pain as Henry jostled his damaged ribs and half from shock. Shawn just laid there, pain dully radiating from his wounds, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get out of it. "Ow…" he said more than felt, and Henry quickly let him go.

"Sorry…" Henry breathed, pulling back and hastily wiping the tear from his cheek. He looked as uncomfortable as Shawn felt. He looked around awkwardly for a moment, then sat back down in the chair. "I…" He trailed off.

Shawn couldn't get the incredulity out of his face. "Okay…  _this_  has got to be a dream."

"It's not a dream, kid," said Henry quietly. He rubbed the back of his neck. He just looked at Shawn for a moment, making Shawn feel like squirming under the scrutiny. "It's just… good to see you awake."

"Yeah…" said Shawn, looking back around the room. The baskets and cards were still everywhere. He pulled his gaze away and looked back at Henry. "So, when do I get out of here?" he asked, his voice still rough and gravelly. He weakly cleared it.

"Not for a few days, kid," said Henry. "You…" He swallowed as his voice cut out. He shook his head and said, "You really did a number on yourself."

Shawn lifted a hand to stop him from continuing. His hand shook and Shawn rested it back on the bed, hating the weakness.

"Look," said Shawn, clearing his throat again as his voice rasped. "You don't have to go through it all, okay? I sh-shouldn't have attacked the guy, I shouldn't have provoked him, I shouldn't have—"

"Shawn," Henry said, but Shawn just shut his eyes and continued, "Dad—I know, okay? 'You have to listen to the crazy guy in charge.' I didn't, I'm an idiot, I'm—"

"Shawn!"

Shawn opened his eyes at Henry's outburst.

Henry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not here to yell at you, kid," he said softly. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Shawn's brows kneaded.  _Who is this person?_  "You're… not?"

"No," he said. "I…" He shifted in the chair again, looking even more uncomfortable. Shawn eyed him.  _That makes two of us_. "I just…" More silence passed as Henry wrestled with words.

"Don't hurt yourself…"

"Shawn," stressed Henry, more tired than angry. "I just…" He looked up, his eyes dark and exhausted. "You scared me to death."

Concern was flooding through his father's eyes. Concern and fear and uncertainty. Shawn shifted himself slightly, trying to get out from under the strong gaze. "I'm fine, Dad—"

" _Now_ ," said Henry firmly. "You're fine,  _now_." He leaned back in the chair. "But you weren't… then. You were… you have no idea how…" He stood then, beginning to pace. "Do you even know what it was like for me to have to…" None of his sentences would finish. Henry's own fear was palpable, and Shawn felt it swim in his own veins.

_His waist, rich with blood, spilling onto the dusty, bank floor._

_Aaron's face hovering over him, dark realization settling in the doctor's eyes._

_The cold, the frigid numbness spreading through him…_

Shawn shook himself. "Look… I'm sorry," he said, making Henry turn. "I didn't mean to… scare you."

Henry let out a long sigh and sat back in the chair. "You don't have to be sorry, kid." He clasped his hands together, leaning his arms over his knees. "In fact, there's about three dozen people around here who feel that they're in  _debt_  to you." Surprise lifted Shawn's brows. Even though Aaron had already mentioned the people from the bank, it was still weird to hear. "And…" Henry looked at him. "I'm… I'm proud of you, kid." His gaze bored into Shawn's. "You… know that… right?"

_I'm proud of you_. Shawn blinked. Words he never expected to hear from his father. Had it really been that bad? Shawn swallowed hard and blinked back tiredness. "I didn't really do much, Dad," said Shawn slowly, coughing a humorless laugh. "Kinda laid back and just let most of it happen."

Henry didn't smile. "You and I both know you did a hell of a lot more than that."

_"Jules, I need a distraction."_

_"Shawn—"_

_"I just need him to look away for two seconds."_

_"What's going to happen in those two seconds, Shawn?"_

_"I'll be fine. I promise."_

Shawn swallowed, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, Dad." He met his eyes. "I promise."

It was only then that Shawn remembered that Henry was the one who taught him to lie.

Before Henry could say anything else, the door opened rather forcibly.

"Shawn!"

Gus barreled into the room, spotting Shawn awake on the bed. Without warning, he rushed over to the bed and pulled Shawn into a haphazard hug.

"Shi-" gasped Shawn, shocked by the sudden embrace but thankful that Gus was being incredibly gentle at the same time. The pain he expected didn't come and he settled back gratefully, breathing shallowly from the adrenaline rush.

"You're okay," said Gus under his breath. "Oh, my god, you're okay…"

Still not having been released, Shawn blinked, his vision obscured by Gus' shoulder. "Uh… buddy," he said breathlessly. "You can let go now…"

Gus did, after a moment, releasing him and backing up. Shawn let out a long breath. "Jeesh, what is it with people and hugs today?" he muttered, shifting against the pillow, briefly shutting his eyes as the room spun a little.

Henry squeezed Shawn's shoulder again and Shawn turned toward him as the room stilled. "I'll… get some coffee." With a small, yet somewhat sad smile, Henry stood and left the room, leaving Gus and Shawn alone. Shawn rubbed his tired eyes as Gus took a seat.

"You okay?" asked Gus tentatively.

Shawn let out a long breath. "Yeah… I think so."

There was a tense silence between them then. Shawn was quickly learning to hate those.

"Shawn…" said Gus, breaking the quiet. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have been in there to—"

More concern. Shawn shifted, searching for a redirect. " _You're_  sorry?  _I'm_  the one who should be sorry," he said tiredly.

Gus looked at him, puzzled. "You're… what? Why?"

"I never…" Shawn swallowed. "I never deposited the check."

Gus didn't share in the humor, and looked every bit like he wanted to dive into the whole mess all over again. But at the look in Shawn's eyes, Gus shook his head at him. "You didn't event go to the right  _bank_ , Shawn!"  
"That's it, buddy," said Shawn softly. "Let it out." Shawn shut his eyes, thankful that Gus played along for him. He listened to Gus' rant about business finances until he fell asleep.

* * *

"Jules!"

Shawn's voice was tired by the time Juliet walked in. He'd woken to the sound or the door creaking open and quickly realized the room was empty except for her. Gus must have left. He cleared his throat a little at her smile. She was still donned in her usual pantsuit. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun and she looked torn between relief and nervousness.

All in all, she looked adorable as ever.

Shawn shifted, trying to sit up as she sat down, but she put a hand on his shoulder immediately, saying, "No, no, don't get up! You need to be resting!"

A tiny spark burst where her fingers touched his shoulder and he tried to hold back a smile. "Don't worry, Jules, I'm fine. Ready to get the hell out of this place for sure." He sat up a little more, ignoring the sharp twinge from his abdomen. "Any word on that…?"

She ignored the question and didn't seem all that convinced of his lie but she retracted her hand anyway. She clasped them both in her lap, nervously turning them. After a slightly awkward silence, she let out a breath. "Shawn, I'm just so glad you're okay. And what you did…" She shook her head. "You're… it was just really… I can't believe how brave you were. Especially since you were so…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

There was still so much worry in her eyes. The concern made him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. He felt the immediate need to erase it. "Jules," he said softly. "You don't need to worry about me. I am A-okay."

Juliet's brows kneaded. "But… Shawn," she said quietly. There was something shining in her eyes. Were those…

_Tears_?

"Everything you did," she went on, "you knew you might not… that you could possibly have…" She looked up at him then, eyes shining. "I can't imagine what you went through, knowing that, to save everyone, you'd have to risk your own…" She couldn't finish, just cut herself off and looked away.

Memories chased each other in his mind. The panic. The gunshot. The blood. The pain.

The cold.

He shook himself, and using every ounce of willpower, forced a genuine-looking smile on his face. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, reaching for her arm. "Stop that, there will be no crying over me. Got it?" She didn't meet his eyes and it only seemed to make a tear spill over her cheek. Shawn raced to find something to say. "Jules," he said quickly, "you've got it all wrong. I didn't risk  _anything_. I'm psychic, remember?" he said, fingers weakly tapping his head. "The, uh, the spirits told me I'd be okay. They said I'd cut it pretty close, but that I'd be fine. That's why I wasn't afraid," he lied evenly. "So you don't have to be, either. Okay?"

Juliet looked up at that. He could see the relief plain in her eyes. "Th-they did?"

Shawn smiled, and it came easier this time. "They sure did."

She shook her head, her eyes darkening again. "But… so you knew… you knew you'd…"

Shawn nodded, then winced, slowly laying his head back. "Yep," he said after the pain subsided. "Knew it. Totally knew it. Planned for it. It wasn't easy, but, you know me…"

"But…" Juliet shook her head. "You… you knew you were going to have to… to  _die_?"

Shawn gave her a look. "What? I didn't die," he said, entirely confused.

Juliet's eyes only darkened even more. "But… we were all there. When your dad found you… in the car. You—you weren't breathing, you didn't have a pulse, you…" Her voice caught at the same moment Shawn's heart froze. "You were gone," she whispered. "It… it took them minutes to bring you… to bring you back."

Shawn just stared at her.

_"Who died?"_

_The darkness in Henry's eyes._

_Aaron's hesitation._

Shawn's chest tightened.

It hadn't just been  _close_.

He had  _died_.

"Wait," said Juliet, seeing his face and looking stricken. "You didn't know, did you?" Her eyes were shining again. "Oh, my god…"

"No!" said Shawn quickly, coughing a laugh that even sounded forced to him. "No, of—of course I  _knew_ ," he said, his lungs finally working again. "I just—I thought you meant, like… like  _stay_  dead… I… knew that I… d—" He choked on the word and hid it behind a cough. But the minute he fake-coughed, it seized his damaged ribs and turned into a groan of pain. He grabbed at his waist and screwed his eyes shut, feeling Juliet's hand gripping his shoulder and saying his name.

"I'm okay," he said breathlessly, the pain dying down.

"You—you're sure?" asked Juliet shakily.

"Yeah," he said, and she slowly sat back down. He gently laid his hand over hers, that was still squeezing his shoulder. "I wasn't scared, Jules," he lied, giving a pained smile. "I promise. And I'm okay now. Don't ever worry about me, okay?"

It seemed to convince her, for whatever reason, because she smiled a real smile and the darkness in her eyes disappeared. She shook her head to herself. "You're… you're really something special, Shawn Spencer."

He gave her another smile then, trying his best to make it a real one, but it never quite made it.

* * *

Shawn pushed on the door, and staggered as it fell open. Fresh air rushed up to meet him, tousling the strands of his hair over his forehead. He was thankful that Henry had packed a bag of sweats and a t-shirt for him for when he was ready to leave the hospital. He just doubted Henry intended he'd use them for  _this_.

It was breezy on the rooftop. The city lights twinkled in the sunset. If Shawn had any doubt in Aaron's orders to stay in the hospital for a few more days, it was gone now. The trip up here that would normally have taken him five minutes took him nearly thirty. Shawn leaned heavily against the crutch they left in his room as he walked across the hospital's roof. Well, not so much  _walked_  as hobbled, his ribs feeling like daggers and his sense of gravity tilting dangerously to the side. He was moving at a terribly slow pace, but he didn't care at the moment. Henry would kill him for escaping while he was in the bathroom, but Shawn didn't mind.

He had to get out of the room. Every single plant, card, and beep of the damn monitor was driving him crazy. Because as much as he didn't want to admit it… it was bothering him. All of it. It was the scariest night of his life and, dare he say it, he wasn't sure he could move on from it that easily. Especially not if everyone kept  _bringing it up_.

Shawn reached the edge of the roof and he let out a breath, his abdomen screaming in pain and his head pounding. He laid the crutch against the ledge that was at least waist-high and leaned against it to keep his balance as he looked out. The water was a few miles from here, but he could hear it clearly. Tides hit the shore, illuminated from the red and orange rays glistening off it.

He never really thought much about it. Dying. The idea that he chose a career that had a fairly high percentage of it. Sure, Gus complained about the risks all the time. He sat out of cases sometimes when they were more dangerous than he signed up for. Those had never bothered Shawn. But he couldn't help replaying what Juliet had told him.

_"You… you knew you were going to die?"_

_"But… I didn't die."_

_"When we found you… you weren't breathing… you didn't have a pulse… You were gone."_

Shawn shivered, unsure if it was because of the chill of the wind or her words. He hadn't just cut it close, like he'd thought. He'd died. He'd  _died_. And if the paramedics had been a few seconds too late, he wouldn't have woken up.

"Stop it," he cursed himself, his fingers gripping the stone ledge of the rooftop until it hurt.

_"I need three hours," Lassiter had said to Heston._

_"You've got two," said Heston firmly. He grabbed the phone and slammed it back down on the receiver, effectively ending the call. He then turned back to Aaron and Shawn, the gun aimed at them both. "And once I get that car, I'm killin' you both."_

Shawn cursed under his breath. Coming up here for the fresh air was supposed to help him  _stop_  thinking about what happened. People wondered why he hated hospitals. Because he  _could not move_. When he couldn't move, he would think. And usually his time in the hospital proceeded something painful or terrifying or both. And thanks to his wonderful memory he was forced to relive them in perfect clarity. Why did people think he joked so much? If he didn't, he'd actually have to  _face_  everything that's happened to him in his life. And when you're facing that kind of a demon head-on, you can't look at anything else. And most of the time, you can't get out. There's therapy, there's prescription drugs, and there's a humor-coated form of denial.

That one's free.

It's just as he explained to Gus during the Yin case.

Back on the day when Yang surfaced and Yin challenged him personally. After he'd kidnapped his and Gus' waitress and they'd found Yin's riddle in her locker. Shawn had broken the sullen mood with an attempt at a joke.

_Silence followed Shawn's words and Gus abruptly stepped toward him. "Can I talk to you for a second, please?" Gus pulled him away from the others and leveled him with a glare. "What are you doing?"_

_Shawn just looked at him. "What are you talking about?"_

_Gus' eyes narrowed. "A girl's life is at stake and you're acting like an ass? Making jokes? You haven't taken this thing seriously from jump street."_

_Shawn just nodded. "Exactly."_

_"Exactly?"_

_Shawn sighed. "Gus, I have to work like this, okay? That guy gets in my head, we lose." He could still feel it surrounding him. The fear. The paranoia. The clear, blatant target on his back. The guilt, gnawing through his chest. He shook himself slightly, trying to think about the riddle written in alphabet letters a few feet away, thinking about the joke he'd cracked about attempting that message with a burrito as the writing instrument. It was a solid joke, too. Different circumstances and Gus would be laughing along with him. At the mere thought of the humor, Shawn felt it cut through the fear that was suffocating him, tearing it away, keeping it at bay. His head felt clearer. Lighter. He could think. He looked back up at Gus, trying desperately not to let this clarity escape him again._

Usually he has to just wait it out. At a hospital, he's usually alone. Over the past ten years, he never had anyone waiting around for him. Nothing to worry about anyone seeing. The only thing worse than his own fear and concern was someone else's.

But now? All the concern from everyone, from his father, Gus, Jules, even people he didn't even  _know_. And Henry? Shawn had  _never_  seen his father like that. The only thing he could think to do was use a joke to ruin it, turn their concern into anger, and the fear was gone. Like he always did. But the more they cared, the more it reminded him of everything and the harder it was to just get over this and move on. He couldn't do this if it continued to bother him. He couldn't do this if he was… was…

_Scared_.

Shawn ran a shaking hand through his hair. Ever since he started his work with the SBPD, he usually got over the cases at night. Nightmares would wake him up, he'd let his memory torture him, he'd wait it out and it was over. And usually it was over by now.

So why wasn't this  _over_?

"I never liked hospital rooms, either."

Shawn jolted so violently at the sudden voice that he whipped around, forgetting that he was injured. He lost his balance, barely catching himself on the edge of the roof, pain bursting from his abdomen. He breathed hard through his teeth as he recovered, looking up as the voice's owner walked to the edge of the roof, looking out toward the water. "Lassie?" asked Shawn breathlessly.

Lassiter made no move to help him stand, even when it took another long moment for Shawn to steady himself enough to straighten up, and blink away some stars from his vision. "I… stopped by," said Lassiter bluntly. "Just to make sure you were still alive." He shrugged. "Paperwork reasons. Henry and the nurses flipped out at your empty room." Lassiter explained.

_So much for being alone_ , thought Shawn irritatedly. "Couldn't stay in there anymore." he said simply. He was shaking, and suddenly feeling even heavier than a moment ago.  _So that's what Aaron was talking about when he said I'd feel like shit_.

"You know," said Lassiter suddenly, "when I got shot a few years ago, I left the entire hospital altogether."

Shawn's glare half-slipped from his face. "You were shot?"

Lassiter nodded. "Bicep. Wasn't that big of a deal. Lost enough blood they wanted me to stay the night." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I was a rookie. Tried to be a hero. Push a bystander away from a bullet. Doctor said that if I hadn't stepped off the curb when it hit me, it would have killed me."

Shawn didn't say anything.

"Flashes, huh?"

Shawn looked at him sharply. "What?"

"Of that day." said Lassiter simply. "At the bank. You have the flashes? Memories?"

At the mere mention, Shawn was back in the bank, watching his own blood spread across the floor. The pain in his abdomen. The cold spreading to his chest…

Shawn shook himself.  _He has no idea._  But it wasn't like he wanted to get into this with  _Lassiter_. Though, there was finally someone who wasn't constantly asking him if he was  _okay_. "Some," he eventually replied.

They both stood there in silence for a few moments, just watching the tides in the distance. Shawn's knuckles were white on the railing and he was pretty sure he was incredibly pale. But Lassiter didn't let on if he noticed.

Lassiter shifted his stance, still not looking at Shawn. "As much as I'd like to think it, you're really not that much of an idiot, are you?"

Shawn fought a shiver against the wind, barely able to conceal a cringe as it jostled his ribs and leaned more weight on the crutch. He didn't bother to glance at the detective even when he replied, "And you're really not that much of an asshole," his eyes crept to the detective, "are you?"

Lassiter met his gaze then, his eyes as unreadable as Shawn's. He broke the contact and looked back toward the distance. They were quiet again for a while.

Shawn lowered his own gaze back to the water. He shook his head. "Why are you here? I thought you hated me."

"I do."

He said it so matter-of-factly that it made Shawn look up again.

"I think you're rash," Lassiter went on. "Impulsive. You're an idiot, to do the things you do." He shrugged. "But you just might be enough of an idiot to make a difference around here." He looked at Shawn then, his gaze lingering for a moment longer, then he turned and left.

Shawn listened to the detective's footsteps fade and the door to the roof swing shut. He turned back to the water and let the chilled breeze soothe some of the pain.

A  _difference_.

And for the first time since waking up, Shawn let a real, true smile grace his lips.

* * *

It took Shawn a lot longer to get off the roof and down to his floor than it did to go up. He was favoring both the crutch and the wall by the time he turned down his hallway, and was pretty sure he was close to passing out.

Henry spotted him immediately, having been pacing outside his doorway. "Shawn!" he exclaimed, his face red. "Where the hell—"

"I just… needed… some air," he said breathlessly, and Henry rushed up to take his weight.

"What part of  _stay in bed_  do you not understand?"

"Probably," said Shawn as Henry began helping him to his room, "the same part of…  _don't_  attack the gunman," he finished, his voice tight.

The rest of the walk to the bed was silent and slow, Shawn grunting with each step. Once he was laid back in the bed, he let out a breath and shut his eyes.  _I'm never leaving this bed again_.

"Shawn—" began Henry angrily, but when Shawn opened his eyes, his face softened slightly. "Just let me  _help_  you the next time you do things like these."

Shawn caught his eyes, and nodded, not even caring that it caused a wince.

The door suddenly opened again and Gus walked in. "Oh, good! You're up! Uh… If you… have a second," Gus was saying nervously, "there was someone who wanted to... meet you."

Before Shawn could say he was too tired for visitors, Gus was back out the door, and in a second later with…

"You… have a son?" asked Shawn, as lifted his brows at the young little boy walking in behind Gus.

"Actually," said another voice, and a man walked in behind the two. "He's my son."

Shawn took in the man, and quickly flashed back to the bank. He had been one of the hostages.

"Oh," said Shawn, trying to straighten up in the bed, feeling too vulnerable where he was. But Henry's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No, please," the man said, approaching the end of the bed. "Don't stress yourself," he said gently. He smiled. "My name is John. I just wanted to thank you, for what you did."

"Oh," said Shawn. He smiled. "You're welcome."

Slight movement at his side shifted his vision. The little boy was climbing into the chair across from Henry.

"Alex—" the man began.

"Are you Superman?" said the boy—Alex.

Shawn's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Gus. "Uh…"

"He tol' me you were," said Alex, pointing at Gus, who shrugged guiltily.

"Well," said Shawn gently, turning back toward the little boy, and all too aware of all the eyes on him. Shawn turned to Gus and Henry. "You guys mind… giving me a second with them?"

Gus nodded and left, and Henry squeezed Shawn's shoulder once more, and left a little more reluctantly. "I'll be right outside," he told Shawn.

After the door swung shut, Shawn turned back to Alex. "Even if I  _was_  Superman," said Shawn, "that would have to stay between us, wouldn't it?"

The boy's eyes lit up. He nodded fervently. "I un'erstand!" He leaned in close and whispered, almost like a secret, "Thank you for saving Daddy."

Shawn shifted his eyes to the boy's father. "Don't worry about it," he said seriously. "I wouldn't have changed anything if I had to do it over again." He smiled again, this time to himself.

The man just walked around the bed to the side, and extended a hand. "Thank you."

Shawn stared at the hand for a long moment, simply shocked by the gesture. He looked back up at the man and took it, shaking it.

A knock came at the door and Gus poked his head in. "Uh… Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

"There's actually… a line of people out here… wanting to know if they can… thank you…"

Shawn just shook his head to himself, ignoring the slight wince it caused. This would never stop being weird. "Uh… sure?" He cleared his throat, feeling the fear loosen its grip on his chest. "Yeah, go ahead. Let 'em in."

_"You just might be enough of an idiot to make a difference here."_

It wasn't long before there were new people in, some he recognized from inside the bank, some had been injured and were in casts and wheelchairs, some were family members, and it was weird. Weird, but… nice.

Because for the first time since waking up in the hospital, he got to forget what happened to him. And see what he did it  _for_.

At some point he began to fall asleep, and at that moment, for the first time since this whole thing happened, he finally felt okay.


	8. Chapter 8

Gus let out a breath as he parked the Echo neatly in a parking space. He glanced over at Shawn who was looking through the window. It's been three weeks since Shawn had been released from the hospital, and although he worked hard to convince everyone of it, he still wasn't quite healed. As much as he tried not to, he still worried about his friend, worried about how Shawn couldn't quite erase a slight limp in his step or the fact that his hand nearly permanently resides over his ribs and the gunshot wound. Shawn walked slower and almost always avoided bending down. Both Gus and Henry, and even Jules, still tend to walk extra close to him, as if afraid he'd collapse right where he stood. Everything that happened, the whole memory of pulling Shawn out of the car was still… too fresh. Gus knew Shawn hated every second of their coddling so he did his best to keep it inside.

And today's trip was  _not_  helping.

Hopefully subtly, Gus looked over at Shawn, and, with his brows kneaded in uncertainty, he asked, "Shawn… are you  _sure_  you want to do this?"

" _Yes_ , Gus," said Shawn, looking at him with an exasperated look. "You can stop asking. I'm beyond sure."

"But…" Gus bit his lip.

"It's gonna be fine, buddy." He flashed a grin.

Gus sighed nervously and got out of the little blue car. He didn't say anything when it took Shawn a bit longer to get out himself. Shawn's face was slightly pinched as he put a hand to his side but barely grimaced. So subtly that only someone looking for it would have noticed. It took Gus about every ounce of self control to keep himself from helping his friend. Finally out, Shawn shut the door heavily and leaned against it for a second. Gus pointedly looked away and pretended not to notice.

"This is the right place?" Shawn asked after a second, pushing himself away from the car, a little out of breath but seeming better.

"Yep," said Gus, shoving down his concern. "First National Bank."

They both looked up at the bank, which was Psych's  _actual_  bank. It was smaller than the… other one. Gus shook himself at the thought. Shawn started toward the double doors.

"Shawn…" Gus hurried after him. "But, you're… like,  _sure_  you want to—"

" _Yes_ ," said Shawn loudly, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes. "I highly doubt some crazy madman with a gun is going to shoot up this bank," he said with a pointed look toward Gus. "And even if one  _did_ ," Shawn went on, "I'm covered." He lifted his button down shirt to reveal a bulletproof vest underneath. "See? I'll be  _fine_."

Gus just shook his head as they walked inside. "I still think you're crazy."

They walked in. There was a short line of customers and a few tellers. They got in line. Gus sighed, looking around the room, paranoia chilling the back of his neck. But there was no madman, no gunfire. Just phones ringing and paper rustling and hushed conversation.

"You know,"said Shawn, "it's a lot more boring without the crazy gunman."

"Shawn!" chided Gus. "Don't even joke about that! What's wrong with you?"

Shawn just shrugged as they moved up in the line. "But you know what? It feels good. I think I might actually start participating in the finance of the business. It  _feels_  good." He breathed in the crisp air. "Hey, how much is even in our account?"

"I'm not telling you."

An open teller looked up and called, "Next," and Shawn and Gus walked forward.

"Hello," said Shawn with a cocky smile.

"Hi," the teller said.

"I'd like to deposit our business check," said Shawn happily.

The teller smiled. "Sure."

Shawn fished through his pocket and pulled out the check, handing it to her. He turned to Gus. "See? Painless. And now you can't tell me I'm not responsible anymore. So,  _ha_."

"Actually…" said the teller, who had smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper and now held it up to Shawn. "This isn't a check. It's a coupon for jerk chicken."

Shawn pressed his lips together and Gus glared in the back of his head. "Oh."

Gus just shook his head. "You're an idiot."

They left the window and started back toward the door. Shawn looked back down at the coupon. "Well, it's still valid. You up for jerk chicken?"

Gus just grinned. "You know that's right."

Shawn squinted at it. "Buy two meals get the third free…" His head snapped up. "Sweet, I got just the thing." He pulled out his phone as he and Gus walked through the double doors and dialed a number on speed dial. He waited for a second until it picked up. "Aaron!" he exclaimed excitedly when it did. "Doc, perfect. You hungry?... What do you mean you're busy?" Shawn and Gus got into the Echo and Shawn listened to Aaron's excuse. He rolled his eyes. "Come  _on_ ," he said, reaching for the seatbelt, listening, and then he scoffed. "That guy will still have appendicitis in an hour… What if this time I made Gus pay?"

Gus rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I paid last time!"

"Gus just said he'd love to," Shawn told Aaron.

"Shawn!"

Shawn just smiled and leaned back into the seat. "Doc," he stressed, looking at the coupon again. "It's gotta be today! This expires on the tenth!" His face screwed up in confusion as he listened. "What do you mean today's the eleventh?"

Shawn's argument with the doctor continued and Gus used the distraction to look at his best friend beside him, see him bruised and tired but alive and laughing. No, he might never get Shawn to walk into a bank again, or the right one anyway, but he got something better.

_This_.

He turned his head back to the road and didn't even bother to hide the smile that brightened his face as he drove.


End file.
